Harry Potter and the Significance of Subtleties
by feauxen
Summary: What would happen if Harry was just a little bit later to King's Cross? If he rode the train with Hermione and Neville and didn't meet the Weasleys until he was at Hogwarts? Not your typical "What if the Hogwarts years went differently fic." T because Harry will be a teen. ;) On indefinite hiatus, plot outlines posted. Contact me if you want to continue this yourself.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I had this fascinating idea bloom in my head while reading** **Harry's New Home** **by Kbinnz, (that was a shoutout, the story may be more well read than anything I've currently written and not need the help, but it is truly hilarious once you get past the first few chapters [which are necessary] and is well worth a read) and I couldn't resist immediately doing all necessary research and planning before writing out the first chapter. At any rate, Harry's running late, so I should probably start writing before he misses the train! Shut up, that's totally how it works.**

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Harry was panicking. Hagrid hadn't told him how to get to platform 9 ¾ and thanks to a fit from Dudley about sitting in the car, first because he'd be next to Harry, then because of his tail, Harry only had five minutes to find it! What was he going to do? The Dursleys had left in a storm of laughter, leaving Harry with five minutes to find something that they didn't think existed. Harry was growing suspicious of Dudley's fit. It wasn't as if he'd had any problems sitting on the couch.

Just as Harry got desperate enough to take his wand out and begin tapping on bricks like the entrance to Diagon alley, he heard a voice startlingly close on his left side.

"What _are_ you doing?" He jumped, looking to see a family of three, a young girl with bushy brown hair who was clearly the one who'd spoken, and a man and woman he assumed were he parents, from their similarities to her. Unfortunately, they looked completely normal, not like anyone he'd seen in Diagon Alley, so they were probably…what was it? Muggles, that was it, and Hagrid had mentioned that he wasn't supposed to do magic in the muggle world. That could only be because most of them were unaware of it, right? Yet here he was, waving a wand in public!

"I-er…" he began, not sure how to explain to a muggle that he was looking for a secret magical train he'd barely even heard of.

"Professor McGonagall must have told you not to use magic in public! You don't even need it to get onto the platform, what on _E_ _arth_ are you doing waving a wand about?" the girl exclaimed fiercely. Relief flooded Harry, obviously these weren't muggles, and they even knew how to get onto the platform!

"You know how to get to Platform 9 ¾?" He asked eagerly, "That's what I was trying to do, but no one told me how to find it!"

"No one told you how to…Goodness gracious!" the woman exclaimed, "How on earth did they expect you to find it? If Professor McGonagall hadn't shown us we'd never have had any idea it was there!"

"I don't know," Harry said, "Hagrid was the one who gave me my ticket, and he only mentioned that the train leaves at eleven o'clock…"

"Speaking of, we really ought to get moving," the man interjected, "The train leaves in less than five minutes!"

This got them all moving. The girl grabbed her trolley, which Harry hadn't noticed, and then, turning to her parents said, "I'll go first," before turning and, after looking around, ran straight at the wall, to Harry's great shock. Before he could shout a warning or stop her, however, she disappeared from view entirely. Harry blinked. He couldn't possibly have seen what he'd just seen, could he? She appeared to have run straight through a solid brick wall! Seeing his expression, the woman laughed.

"Oh dear, this magic stuff must be new to you to. It's incredible, isn't it?"

"It-she…" Harry stammered.

The man spoke up, "Yes, apparently the wall is charmed to let people who know about it through. I hear the trick is to take it at a bit of a run, if you're nervous. Now you'd best get over your surprise and get after her if you don't want to be late."

That got Harry's attention. He glanced at the clock. Only three minutes left. There was nothing else to do. Harry grabbed his trolley, pointed it at the wall, and was about to start running when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait, son. This is like crossing the road, you need to look both ways first," the man said, "Wouldn't want someone to notice you running through a wall, would you?"

Harry supposed he had a point. Checking back and forth for anyone looking his direction, he didn't see anyone.

"Now, as we're in a hurry, we'll be going with you dear," the woman said, gently grabbing Harry's arm. To be honest, he was glad for the mental support having someone else alongside him provided. Harry looked for the man, who was casting one last cursory glance around the station.

"Right, let's go then," the man said. Harry was left with little choice but to move forward as the two adults guided him forward, slowly but surely approaching the wall. Harry braced himself, but reassured by the knowledge that he had seen someone do this just seconds ago, managed not to close his eyes, and so he noticed that his trolley in front of him didn't hit the wall, and by the time he'd realized that, he had stepped through after it. The first thing he saw was a scarlet locomotive sitting on the tracks, and the second was the sign overhead which read Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock.

The third was an impatient young girl waving her parents onward, "Come on mum, dad, it's going to leave any minute!"

Harry heard a chuckle from the man beside him. "Darling, we were merely helping this young man. He could barely even believe what you did, and hurry or no, you shouldn't just take off like that!"

"I know dad, but come on! I'll be late!" the girl turned and hurried off through the crowd. Harry noticed that there were very few students still on the platform, and most of the parents were facing the train, waving if they saw their child through the window. He hurried after the girl, only catching up to her as she attempted to lift her trunk into an empty carriage at the end of the train.

"Here, let me help," he said, grabbing one end. She nodded, and together they managed to lift her trunk to the top of the stairs, with no small amount of difficulty.

"Sorry, I did bring quite a lot of books," she apologized, "I'm actually so late because I couldn't fit all of them into my trunk." As she finished speaking, a train whistle blasted from the front of the train. Her face suddenly more panicked, she said, "Here, let me help with your trunk, we don't have much time," but as they turned to pick his trunk, they saw the girl's father lifting it up the stairs.

"Figured you could use a hand, and time is short," he said, putting down the trunk at the top of the stairs. He turned, grabbed something, and with a quick, "Thank you, dear," placed Hedwig in her cage on the trunk. He then moved around Harry's suitcase and completely engulfed the girl in a hug, eliciting a muffled squeak.

"We're going to miss you, Hermione," the man said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion.

The woman, who had also walked around Harry's trunk, simply lay a hand on the girl's shoulder, waiting for the embrace to end. When it did, the woman embraced the girl, simply saying, "Do…do have fun Hermione. Don't get too wrapped up in schoolwork like you always do." The woman's voice was also breaking slightly with emotion, making Harry feel quite awkward and left out. He hurriedly busied himself dragging his trunk into the luggage compartment, catching some declarations of love and promises to write regularly as he did so. He didn't begin to cry, he had far too much practice holding back tears. Instead he felt envy and longing.

The train gave a lurch into motion as Harry pushed his trunk into an adequate position in the luggage compartment, and when he exited it, he saw only the girl standing there, facing him. Her face was slightly red.

"Sorry about that," she said awkwardly, "parents can be…well you know…"

"I'm sure they can," he said, not really managing to hide his bitterness. The girl looked at him, shocked. The silence stretched out.

"Do you mean…?" she began in a small voice, before trailing off again.

The awkward silence stretched once more. "I…oh forget it." Looking around, he saw her trunk sitting beside her, and hastening to change the subject, offered his help stowing it. After doing so, and leaving Hedwig a few owl treats, they went in search of a compartment. Everywhere seemed quite full by this point, so when they found a compartment with only a small, round-faced boy in it, Hermione hesitantly opened the door.

"Is it alright if we sit in here?" she asked, "Everywhere else seems full." The boy looked up, apparently quite startled, but nonetheless nodded, watching as Harry and Hermione came in and sat down.

"Well, my name is Hermione Granger. It's nice to meet you. And what are your names?"

Seeing the other boy looking still quite shocked, Harry spoke up first. "My name is Harry Potter." The reaction was immediate. The other boy muttered something, now looking even more shocked.

Hermione, on the other hand, burst out, "Really? You're that guy? The one in _Modern Magical History_ , _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_?" Harry was quite overwhelmed. Hagrid had told him he was famous, but he was _this_ famous? Harry wasn't sure what to say.

"Y-yeah," the other boy spoke for the first time, "I thought I recognized you, Harry. My name's Longbottom, by the way. Neville Longbottom."

"Nice to meet you," Harry managed, still getting over being in _three_ history books.

"But then where were your guardians?" Hermione asked, clearly confused, "I mean, you're a huge celebrity in the wizarding world! Those books almost talked about you like you were the second coming of Christ, but you were left at the train station, alone?"

Harry really didn't want to talk about the Dursleys.

"Well, where Harry Potter is staying, and who looks after him is one of the bigger mysteries of our time," Neville said, "Apparently Dumbledore put him somewhere safe, and refused to say much more than that. Probably best that way, actually, since…" and then Neville trailed off, looking quite uncertain.

"But that doesn't explain where your guardians were on the platform," Hermione pressed on, "whoever they are; they can't possibly have had a reason to leave you alone on the muggle side of the barrier with no idea how to get through, could they?"

"Wait, you didn't know how to get through the barrier?" Neville was clearly very shocked to hear this.

"No," said Harry quietly, "I didn't. Hagrid didn't think to tell me, he probably forgot."

"Hagrid's been looking after you this whole time? I thought he was just a groundskeeper!" Neville exclaimed.

"No, he was just the one who showed me around Diagon Alley and helped me find my school things," Harry said, "I live with the Dursleys." He spat the last word out.

Harry saw comprehension dawn on Hermione. "And they…they're muggles, aren't they?" Harry nodded. "But…they…they aren't very nice, are they?" Apparently the look on Harry's face was confirmation enough.

Hermione still looked a bit confused. "So…Dumbledore left you with a random family of muggles? Why? Especially if they…aren't nice." Hermione was clearly using being euphemistic.

"Well, they are my only remaining family, at least as far as I know…" Harry began to wonder the same thing himself. Why _had_ he been left with his awful relatives? He was probably famous enough that people would line up to adopt him, and he was hardly famous for a bad reason.

Neville, apparently had an idea, "Well, I think I may have heard something once about how it was a shame you had no relatives, because of some ward or something that could keep you safe if you stayed with family. Maybe, since you _do_ have family Dumbledore used that ward to keep you safe?"

"And it would make sense to put you with muggles, as well, because the wizarding world is so separate from muggles that they didn't even know you had family there!" Hermione exclaimed, looking extremely satisfied with herself. Then her face fell. "But is that really worth it if it means putting you with the kind of people who wouldn't even see you to the train? People who…who wouldn't…" Hermione trailed off, probably thinking of Harry's clear bitterness at her presumption of his knowledge about loving parents.

Neville suddenly looked quite awkward, and Hermione didn't seem to want to press the issue. This was perfectly fine with Harry, and he found himself looking out the window at the passing scenery. Eventually, Hermione got out a book and began reading. They continued to sit in silence until just after 12:45, when there was a clattering in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman opened the door.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?" she asked. Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, jumped at the opportunity, ready to take advantage of his newly discovered money to buy as many Mars Bars as the trolley carried. Only slightly deterred by the lack of mars bars, Harry nonetheless bought some of each of the increasingly unusual sweets the trolley did have. When he was done, Neville purchased a cockroach cluster, a licorice wand, and a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Hermione, looking a bit hesitant, asked Neville if he had any recommendations.

"Well, licorice wands are probably my favorite, but if you want chocolate you should probably go with the frogs," here Neville indicated the chocolate frogs, "and I've always enjoyed a bit of adventure from Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, they really do mean every flavor."

Looking a bit skeptical, Hermione nonetheless bought three chocolate frogs and a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. As they sat back down, she looked disapprovingly at Harry.

"Your teeth will rot if you eat so much candy," she stated with absolute certainty.

Harry hadn't thought of it that way, he just hadn't wanted to miss out on anything.

"Rot? Ridiculous!" Neville exclaimed, "Teeth don't rot!"

Hermione turned her disapproving glare to him, "It may not be rotting as such, but cavities are no joke! My parents are dentists, I know all about them!"

Now Neville just looked confused, "What's a cavidy?" he asked.

Hermione's glare ramped down a few notches into uncertainty. "It's when your teeth turn brown because you've had too much sugar and not brushed your teeth. Surely even wizards have heard of them?"

"Muggles use brushes on their teeth?" Neville looked puzzled by the mere thought of such a practice.

"Well of course they do," Harry interjected, "How else would you keep them clean?"

"Well, my gran just casts this charm every so often…"

Hermione looked at him as though he'd turned blue, grown another head, and then revealed that cats were really dogs.

"You mean…wizards don't get cavities?"

"I guess not," Harry interjected, "It would make sense that with magic, a few things like that get much easier to fix."

Hermione looked as though her whole world had been turned on its head. And, Harry supposed, when a dentist's child discovered that dentists were completely irrelevant, that was exactly what happened.

Leaving such heady matters to Hermione, Harry looked over the candy he had bought. "Well Neville, you probably know this stuff better than I do, do you have any suggestions where I start?"

"Hmm?" Neville had already started on his licorice wand. Swallowing, he said, "Well cockroach clusters are universally agreed to be fairly revolting, so maybe you should start there, just so you still have plenty of things to wash the taste down. I only got some myself because Trevor here likes them." He reached into his robes and pulled out a large toad.

"Oh my!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh, sorry," Neville apologized, putting Trevor down on the seat next to him, on the opposite side that Hermione was sitting. He then tore open a bag of cockroach clusters and dumped them on the seat. Trevor dug in with clear fervor.

Hermione took a bite out of one of her chocolate frogs as he did this. "Well," she said after swallowing, "it's more the size of him that surprised me. I didn't think toads got that big."

"Oh, I don't know about mundane frogs," Neville said, "but Trevor is definitely a bit magical. I forget how, exactly, because it wasn't terribly interesting, but it could just be that he's bigger for all I know."

As they chatted, Harry picked up the bag of cockroach clusters. They really did look revolting. Deciding to save them for later, perhaps never, Harry put them in a pocket and got out something called a pumpkin pasty. It tasted a bit like the bit of pumpkin pie he'd managed to sneak a few years back, although perhaps a bit less sweet and more bread-y.

For a few minutes, there was no sound but silence and chewing, until Neville finished his licorice wand, got up, and said, "I've gotta to hit the toilet."

Nodding, Harry moved on to a chocolate frog. It was so lifelike that he was almost surprised when it didn't jump out of the package, but he supposed that animating candy to run away from you would be a bit rude. As he bit the head off, he saw a card with a picture of a clever-looking wizard with black hair, dark eyes, a pointed beard and thin eyebrows. Underneath the picture was his name, Phineas Nigellus Black. Harry turned the card over and read the short description.

Phineas Nigellus Black (1847-1925)

 _Previous Headmaster of Hogwarts_

Phineas Black was one of few Slytherin headmasters of Hogwarts.

Quite a clever man, Phineas was the instigator of many policies at

Hogwarts that remain to this day, banning student access to the now-

Forbidden Forest, refusing help from the ministry to establish an

independence of education, and negotiating the peace treaty that

still holds the centaurs in check.

"There's trivia cards in these!" He exclaimed in surprise.

Hermione looked up from her own card. She had started on a second frog and was reading that card. "Oh, yes. Who did you get? I've got Cornelius Agrippa and Albus Dumbledore so far."

"I got some bloke named…Phineas Nigellus Black," Harry said, needing to check the wizard's name. It really was a mouthful. "Apparently he used to be headmaster."

"Ooh, can I have a look?" she asked. Harry handed the card over. "Here, you can look at mine. Dumbledore's pretty interesting, if you ask me." She handed over two cards. The top one was Cornelius Agrippa, apparently some wizard who was imprisoned by muggles for his writings. His card didn't have much on it. Dumbledore's on the other hand nearly called him the greatest wizard of modern times, mentioning the defeat of some dark lord, some intellectual sounding achievements involving dragon's blood and alchemy, and still found room to mention his personal taste in music and recreation. Perhaps more recent wizards were easier to find information about. Phineas Black had plenty of information like Dumbledore, but Agrippa, who was from centuries ago, only had a single sentence.

"Ooh, I read a bit about Phineas in Hogwarts, a History, but I didn't know he'd done all those things, and I didn't notice that being a Slytherin headmaster was so rare!" Hermione sounded quite enthused to have discovered something new.

"If what Hagrid said about Slytherin is true, I wouldn't be surprised that he's one of the only ones that turned out good enough to become headmaster," Harry said, "Slytherin is apparently the only house that dark wizards come from." He was secretly worried he'd end up in Slytherin, to be honest. He'd defeated the worst dark lord out there, from what Hagrid had said, so he had every possibility to turn out worse.

"Oh that's just silly!" Hermione exclaimed, "It's statistically impossible that dark wizards only come from Slytherin, they can't be too much more than a quarter of the population. The defining traits of a Slytherin are cleverness, ingenuity, and ambition; it says so in Hogwarts, a History. None of those make people evil!"

"Well I'll say!" a voice exclaimed from Hermione's lap, "My house may get a bad reputation, but this young lady knows her stuff!" Hermione looked at the chocolate frog card in surprise.

"You can talk!"

"Well of course I can young lady, do I look like a mute? At any rate, you are quite right about my house, nothing makes a Slytherin inherently evil, and plenty outside of it have strayed to dark magic. Why, just ten years ago there was a great hoo-hah about some Gryffindor who'd betrayed his friends to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! Lumping Slytherin with evil is a sure way to be mistaken."

Harry, who was too shocked by the words to pay attention to what was saying them, spoke up, "So why would someone lump Slytherin with evil then? And for that matter, why are there so few Slytherin headmasters?"

"Oh, my boy, plenty of people seem to think that cunning and ambition lead one to horrid acts and the absence of morality, but none ever seem to realize that the world simply doesn't work in absolutes like that."

The man suddenly tilted his head as if listening to something. "Oh dear, that sounds interesting. I must go!" The dark haired man in the picture that Hermione was now holding up in amazement turned and simply walked into the edge of the picture, disappearing. A stunned silence followed.

Hermione was the first to speak. "So…let me get this straight. Pictures can _talk_ in the wizarding world? _Pictures_ can _talk!_ And hold a meaningful conversation!"

"Apparently so," Harry replied, still more surprised by what the picture had said than the fact that it could talk. Slytherin wasn't a place for evil wizards and gits like that one from the robe shop? It even sounded like he might fit in there fairly well. He certainly had ambition after finally emerging from the Dursleys, and Dudley's shadow. And while he didn't know about cleverness so much, he'd usually been able to outthink Dudley's gang. But why did Hagrid seem so convinced that Slytherin was a horrible house?

His train of thought was interrupted when Neville burst back into the compartment, shouting, "Trevor!" He went over to the seat where Trevor had been munching on the cockroach clusters, but Trevor wasn't there anymore. "No, no, no! I can't have lost him again already. Where is he? Trevor!" Apparently Trevor had the tendency to wander off.

"Calm down Neville," Hermione said, "when did you last see him for sure?"

Neville did not calm down. "It was before I left for the bathroom, and now I have no idea where he went, he could be anywhere!" The round-faced boy began checking underneath the seats. He didn't stop talking, though his voice was slightly muffled from the cushioning on and under the seats. "He could have followed me out the door, and now he could be anywhere on the train! He might even have jumped off! Why does this always happen?"

Hermione stood up, hauling Neville by the back of his shirt (this required both arms and quite a bit of effort on her part) as she did so. She then turned him around until he was facing her and placer her hands on his shoulders.

"Neville! Calm down!" she shouted, "We probably would have noticed Trevor leaving, so we should check around here thoroughly before we look anywhere else. Even if he is wandering the train, no frog or toad is stupid enough to crawl out a window and jump off or something, so we can find him! Someone must have seen something."

Neville looked quite shocked, but did calm down a bit.

"Right, now let's get the basics out of the way." Hermione pulled out her wand and said something like, "Loomose," before getting down and checking under the seats like Neville had, though her wand tip now had a light on it, which helped illuminate the space under the seats.

"Okay," said Hermione as she stood back up, "He's definitely not under there." She looked up at the overhead luggage racks for smaller baggage. "Do you think he could jump high enough to get up there?"

Neville followed her gaze. "I wouldn't be surprised. We usually find him in the craziest places."

"Alright then, let's check up there." Hermione looked thoughtfully up at the racks, which weren't really placed in easy reach of an eleven year old.

"Here, let me check, I'm pretty good at climbing," Harry said, getting up. He then stood on the seat and grabbed the edge of the rack, pulling himself up with his arms and a bit of a boost from his feet. Once he got his chin hooked over the edge, he called down, "Hey, could you hold that light up here?"

Hermione climbed onto the seat next to him and held the wand above the rack. Even with the light, Harry didn't see any toads. Dropping back down, he said, "Not there. Let's try the other side."

After checking there, and still not finding Trevor, Neville was clearly ready to start panicking again, but Hermione stopped him short. "You stay with Harry and check around this carriage, I'll see if anyone has seen a toad in the next one over. He probably hasn't gotten very far, so you and Harry should have the best chance of finding him, which is good, since there are two of you and you know the most about him, Neville."

Hermione did come off as a bit bossy, but she was also quite smart. Having no objections, the three split as she'd said and began their search. Harry and Neville, keeping their eyes peeled for Trevor, walked down the corridor toward the end of the train. There was no way out of the back, since they were in the very last car. There was simply the baggage compartment and a locked door. Starting their search in the baggage compartment, Neville and Harry searched high and low. Hedwig was sleeping in her cage, her head under her wing as always, but there wasn't any sign of a toad. Then Harry heard a small rustle behind one of the smaller suitcases.

"Neville, did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That rustle. Be quiet and listen for another one." Harry saw a slightly doubtful look on Neville's face, but the boy nonetheless stopped moving to listen. The silence stretched out, until—

"There!" Harry exclaimed, pointing at the suitcase he heard the sound from. That was twice now. He quickly walked over and pulled the suitcase off the rack. Nothing was there. Still determined, Harry shifted the cases around that space, calling Trevor's name softly. But to no avail. Whatever the rustling had been, it was gone now.

"I swear, something was moving here," Harry said.

"Yeah, but maybe we should leave it alone," Neville said nervously, "You never know what it was that was moving."

Harry supposed that was a valid point in a world where even things like solid walls weren't always what they seemed. After one last once-over of the baggage compartment, Harry put back the suitcase and made for the exit with Neville. Just as he passed the final luggage rack, however, Harry was attacked. He felt a sudden weight hit his hip hard enough that he stumbled, followed by a squirming that made him shriek in a very embarrassing manner that he instantly regretted, mostly because when he looked down, he saw the rear half of a rather familiar toad sticking out of his pocket.

"What is it Harry?" Neville demanded, looking very tense.

"Well, it appears that he was looking for us, too," Harry said as he grabbed Trevor and gently extracted him from the pocket. Clamped determinedly in the toad's mouth was the bag of cockroach clusters that Harry had decided against eating earlier. "Or perhaps he was still a bit peckish after the candy from earlier…"

"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed, joyously snatching him from Harry, and managing to dislodge the bag of candy from the toad's mouth. Harry bent down and picked it up.

"You know, you probably have more use for these than I do, I only bought them because I had no idea what they were," he said, offering the bag to the other boy, "And you should probably keep some of these around in case you lose him again."

"Thanks Harry!" Neville said as he shuffled Trevor into one hand and took candy in the other. Harry felt a warmth of happiness spread through his chest. He'd never had anything to share before, and certainly never been thanked for something in his memory. He found he quite liked the sensation.

As they headed back to their compartment, they saw Hermione coming back into their car. Neville held Trevor up triumphantly, and Hermione, looking relieved, joined them back in their compartment.

"Thank goodness you found him," Hermione said, "I was asking around, and I'd just gotten through talking to a rather rude boy who was attempting some odd spell on his pet rat when I decided to see how you were faring. So where was he?"

"He'd wandered off to the baggage compartment," Neville explained, "and apparently he was a bit puckish, because he went after these in Harry's pocket," he held up the cockroach clusters, "We didn't even really find him, he sort of jumped on Harry to get at the cockroach clusters."

"He was still hungry after eating a whole bag of the things?" Hermione questioned. The bags were about as big as Harry's hand, and rather full.

"Well, he may not have eaten anything this morning, I didn't check before we left. And he always does have a big appetite."

"Hmmm, well he must be magical in some way if he can eat that much and still have room for more, no mundane that size could eat that much." Trevor's body, not counting his extensive rear legs, was around the size of a bag of cockroach clusters.

As he listened, Harry began munching on a licorice wand. It wasn't so different from what little he knew of muggle licorice, though it did have a sort of…sweet kick he couldn't really identify that he was certain the muggle candy didn't have. Hermione and Neville discussed Trevor's diet for a few more minutes, before falling silent. Harry moved on to a cauldron cake. The one he chose was apparently peppermint flavored, despite a lack of label. Were they all filled with a peppermint flavored "potion?" How odd.

At this point Harry noticed Neville eyeing his licorice wands, and Hermione finishing off her last frog as she read her book again. Remembering how nice sharing had felt, he decided to offer them some of his incredibly large collection. Neville happily took two more licorice wands while Hermione looked at him for a very long time before taking one single chocolate frog. Harry though he heard he mutter something about it being better to binge than savor. He wondered just how strictly the daughter of dentists had been raised. If four chocolate frogs constituted a 'binge,' it had probably been pretty strict, even if her parents did clearly love her.

The rest of the journey passed relatively uneventfully, though Hermione did go wandering around at one point, and when she returned said she'd confirmed with the conductor that they were almost there, and should get changed into their school robes. Then she left for the bathroom as Neville and Harry changed into their school robes. She returned shortly, a few minutes before a voice informed them that they would arrive at Hogwarts in five minutes, and should leave their luggage on the train to be brought up separately.

When they arrived at the station, it was a crush of bodies and confusion as they tried to make their way out to the dark, cold station. Then Harry spotted a lamp bobbing over the heads of the students and heard a familiar voice.

"Firs' years! Firs' years this way! Alright there Harry?" Hagrid was there to lead the first years. Harry was quietly relieved.

"Come on, follow me—any more firs' years? Mind yer step now, follow me!"

Staggering and stumbling, the group of first years managed to follow the big man down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. Harry thought he heard a crunching from Neville's pocket, and figured that Trevor was being bribed with cockroach clusters to stay put for once.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "Jus' around this bend here.

There was a loud "Oooooh!" A castle came into view atop a mountain and across a dark lake, windows and lights sparkling in marvelous glory. It was quite a vast structure, with many turrets and towers. Harry was impressed. He'd been picturing something more like a typical muggle school, though he wasn't really sure why, after having seen Diagon Alley.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, and Harry quickly found Hermione and Neville as he headed for a boat. By unspoken agreement, the three boarded the same boat. Everyone else seemed to be in groups of at least two, and no one else joined their boat.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a whole boat to himself. "Right then—FORWARD!"

And the little fleet of boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was smooth as glass. Hogwarts towered over them more and more the closer they got, inspiring silent awe from everyone.

"Heads down!" Hagrid called as they approached the cliff face. They all bent their heads as the boats took them through a mossy curtain and into a cave that must have led underneath the castle to an underground harbor of sorts. As they disembarked, Hagrid checked the boats before leading them up a passage to a set of great oaken doors. Checking one last time that they were all together, Hagrid turned and knocked three times on the large doors.

The door swung open at once. There was a tall, black haired witch in emerald robes waiting for them with a stern look on her face. Harry's first thought was that she was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you Hagrid, I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide and led them across an entrance hall so big the whole Dursley's house would have fit inside. A great staircase facing them led to upper floors. Harry could hear hundreds of voices from a doorway nearby; the rest of the school must have already arrived. They were led to a small empty chamber off the hall, however crowding into the small space nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. The start-of-tern banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes traveled over the students, focusing on details like Neville's off-kilter cloak and belching pocket, Harry's forever unruly hair, and other minor wardrobe malfunctions. Harry tried desperately to flatten his hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall, "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into the houses?" Harry asked Neville as the boy hastily straightened his cloak and patted at his pocket lightly to quiet Trevor.

"I don't know, exactly. I think my gran mentioned something about a longstanding tradition, but I…I wasn't really paying attention." Neville was buzzing slightly with nervousness, scratching here and straightening clothing there. Harry turned to Hermione only to find that she was whispering very quickly about spells she had learned and might possibly need. Harry listened for long enough to realize that now was too late to try to study and learn. What if he had to perform anyway? He'd managed some impressive things in his childhood, but he'd never actually been in control of those, and the closest he come to magic was the sparks from his wand. What if he was judged poorly based on his lack of knowledge, and had to go back to the Dursleys? Harry hadn't been away long, but he was starting to realize just how far he could get when he emerged from their shadow and he didn't want to go back. He wanted to stay at Hogwarts and keep sharing his candy with Hermione and Neville, and maybe even learn a thing or two from Hermione, because she seemed like the type who knew everything.

And then, as if to add to everyone's terror, (Harry was far from alone in his fear, if everyone else's faces were anything to go by) several…ghosts emerged from a wall, mid-conversation.

"What the—?"

Harry gasped and jumped about a foot in the air, and several people around him did the same. Around twenty ghosts had just streamed into the room. And they didn't appear to have noticed the first years yet.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had just noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the smiling friar, who was very fat. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the front wall.

"Now form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though his legs had turned to lead, Harry got into line behind Neville and in front of Hermione, whose muttering had ceased instantly when Professor McGonagall had returned. So ordered, they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never imagined such a strange and splendid place. Candles floated everywhere, lighting the hall thoroughly. There were four main tables laden with glittering plates and goblets where all of the students sat, and perpendicular to those at the front of the room was a table for staff members. This was where Professor McGonagall led the first years, so that they ended up standing in a line in front of the staff table, looking out at the rest of the school. Mostly to avoid meeting the sea of eyes now staring his way, Harry looked up to see the ceiling was velvety black and dotted with stars, nearly indistinguishable from the real night sky. It was almost as though the hall was open to the stars. Beside him, Hermione whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts, a History."_ It seemed that Hermione had read a great many things in that book. Perhaps it was worth a look.

Harry noticed Professor McGonagall place a stool in front of the first years, on top of which she placed a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was patched, frayed, and dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

 _Maybe we have to pull a rabbit out of it,_ Harry thought wildly, fears of a test returning. Looking around, all he saw were people staring at the hat, so he stared at it too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing:

" _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can sap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal,_

 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _If you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folk use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables, before once again going still.

Harry briefly reflected that trying on the hat was better than having to do a spell, but he really wasn't feeling to brave, or smart, or cunning right now. If only the hat had mentioned a house for the slightly queasy, he'd fit right in. Harry heard Hermione muttering something next to him again, and missed what McGonagall said as he caught hints of words like "bravery" and "intelligence" and "oh dear" from that general direction. The thrust of Professor McGonagall's instruction was clear, however, first one, then two girls came up at the sound of their name to be sorted into Hufflepuff. After that everything was a blur of worry, between whatever Hermione was whispering about next to him and his sudden recollection of Hufflepuff's reputation. Apparently according to that rude boy at least Hufflepuff wasn't all that great. A house for the queasy if there ever was one.

Harry barely caught the call of "Granger, Hermoine!" but he did notice when the muttering to his left trailed off toward the stool. Watching with baited breath himself, Harry wasn't sure how to react when he heard the hat's decision.

"Gryffindor!"

He wasn't so stunned that he forgot to clap, though he was sure in at least some part of his brain that something about that struck him as odd. The hat had taken longer to reach the decision about Hermione that many of the others. Did that mean something? She wasn't the only one who had taken a long time to sort, but something about Hermione's sorting just…stuck with Harry. Niggling there.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Once again, Harry felt the absence at his side more than he really registered Professor McGonagall calling the name. Once again, the hat took a significant amount of time deciding where Neville would go. Long enough that a horrible thought occurred to Harry. What if he simply wasn't sorted? What if the sorting hat just sat there until they took it off and told him there'd been a mistake, he had to return to the Dursleys'? Harry felt no relief from this notion as Neville ran off to Gryffindor still wearing the hat only to double back in embarrassment. After all, Neville was raised as a wizard. And Hermione probably wasn't, but she was incredibly intelligent. Whereas Harry was…just Harry. Like he'd told Hagrid.

Harry peripherally noticed the boy he'd met at the robe shop (Malfoy, Draco) go into Slytherin, but he was so preoccupied by his latest thought that nothing else penetrated his panicked haze until, "Potter, Harry!"

Harry's heart stopped. There was no noise, only a rushing sound. Then someone seemed to ask if it was really him. Similar whispers followed him all the way to the hat, until it fell over his eyes, every eye in the hall pointed straight at him being the last thing he saw. His mind went blank in panic.

"Oh, I wouldn't say blank," said a small voice, "There's quite a lot going on in this head, yes indeed! Why, you could probably fit in nicely anywhere I put you, although…yes. No personal objections that I can see and a mind as yet unmolded. Yes, you will go quite far in SLYTHERIN!"

The last word was shouted out to the entire hall. A moment passed and the hat was lifted slowly from his head. Silence had fallen once more. This time no one broke it. But everyone stared at him, as though he had at least seven new heads.

* * *

 **A/N: Aaaaaaaaand…yep. I ended it there. I may like cliffhangers just a tad much, but that's a hazard of writing fanfiction I suppose. At any rate, reviews are incredible under any circumstances, and also motivate me. I probably won't get chapters out as quickly for this story as I did Olde Rituels, because these chapters will be a bit denser, though I can try. If motivated enough. If not, it'll probably be a chapter for every two weeks. And my initial motivation tends to flag a few chapters in no matter what I'm doing, so that's where y'all come in.**

 **To completely change the subject, the idea of this story is that one thing in cannon changed, Dudley's fit, and everything else fell in a completely different direction because of it. This won't be a typical alternate universe fic, because my goal is to keep Harry's initial personality firmly rooted in cannon until some event happening differently changes it. (I even transcribed large portions of this chapter from cannon with minimal to no changes because not much really changes until the sorting.) The hat in cannon told Harry he could be great in Slytherin, but Harry opposed it. By the end of the second book, Harry was firmly a Gryffindor, although he arguably hadn't given up all of his Slytherin capability to grasp complex plots, if his handling of the diary is any indication. And from that simplification of a far more complex argument that I'd love to debate at length with any who are interested, (no seriously just PM me) this story was born.**

 **But anyway, I'll leave you with that food for thought and simply say what I always do.**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**

 **P.S. If you'd like to know my stance on ownership of Rowling's intellectual property, I state it quite firmly in Harry Potter and the Olde Rituels, my other story.** **;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well, apparently it only took RiddleMeEvil01 35 minutes to review my story. Thank you! I normally have to wait a very long time for reviews, but today I didn't. Now I'm going to write a whole 'nother chapter because I had it planned out anyway, and you gave me a reason to actually start writing sooner than usual.**

 **(If anyone else likes this story, you guys should thank him too. He's pretty great.)**

 **And a note from the end of the day, thank you everyone for giving me over 100 visitors day one of my new story. That kind of thing is VERY motivating.**

* * *

Harry looked out at the sea of silent eyes, suddenly nervous. Everyone else had gotten applause. Right? He thought they had, but he wasn't sure.

And then, crashing through the silence like a bull through a china shop, Harry heard it.

"WOOOOO! GOOD JOB HARRY!" Hermione followed this exclamation with the loudest applause Harry had ever heard a single person produce.

Harry let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and got off the stool, bolstered by Hermione's support. At least he had one friend. And then he heard another bout of clapping. Looking for it, he saw Neville, sitting across from Hermione, applauding him. Led by their example, a smattering of people around the hall slowly began clapping. There were no cheers, as there had been for others. Most people just kept staring at him as he descended to the Slytherin table. Even the Slytherins were staring. A few of the students actually looked at him in the familiar way his relatives always did. They didn't want him here. He chose a seat in the middle of the table, where there seemed to be a sizable gap no one sat in.

The sorting continued, but Harry was numb. He had hoped so much that he would find a place to belong at Hogwarts. That he would have friends. Perhaps he even did have a few, but what was that worth if they weren't in his house? He'd never had friends before because he was always so far away from them, thanks to Dudley and his gang. Hogwarts was shaping up to be exactly the same. How long would he really have friends when he had to compete against them?

Harry sat in this depressing line of thought for so long that he hardly noticed the boy sitting across from him at first. He said something in greeting, but Harry missed it as Albus Dumbledore himself stood up and spread his arms in welcome.

"Welcome," he said, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Harry really wasn't sure what to make of it as everyone cheered, until a voice came across the table, saying, "Eat up, Harry. You're going to want your strength tomorrow!" Startled, Harry looked over at the boy. He had smooth black hair down to his shoulders and a sculpted face. Then he noticed the food.

Harry had never seen so much food he liked in one place before. Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops…there was just so much. But, "Who are you?" Harry asked.

"My name is Zabini. Blaise Zabini. I was the last guy to get sorted."

"Oh," Harry said. He decided to load his plate before attempting to continue the conversation.

"You looked a bit out of it there, are you doing okay?" Blaise asked.

Harry paused. "Well, I was really nervous. And then when I got sorted…"

Blaise nodded knowingly. "Yeah you surprised us all with that one, didn't you? It took a Gryffindor to break the ice."

Harry had finished loading his plate and taken a bite. Swallowing, he said, "Yeah. She's pretty nice; actually, I met her on the train."

"Really? And the Longbottom boy as well?" Blaise asked curiously.

"Well, yes. We shared a compartment, because Hermione and I were pretty late getting to the station."

"You shared a compartment with Longbottom?"

"Yes. He was pretty nice, actually. He lost his toad, but we found it."

"And did this…Hermione help with that too?"

"Of course she did. It was her that kept Neville from freaking out so we could actually find him. She keeps her head in a panic, and she had to calm Neville down."

"Really? How interesting," Blaise said, actually stroking his chin. Harry got the sudden sense that Blaise wasn't thinking about about something as simple as a lost frog. Who even stroked their chin like that at all? Deciding to ignore a bit of oddity from the one Slytherin who was willing to talk to him, Harry began eating. Blaise did the same, managing to eat nearly as much while maintaining a very dignified air. Harry began to feel out of place again.

As he looked more closely at the professors, Harry saw Professor Quirrell, the odd man he'd met in the Leaky Cauldron. He was talking to the teacher next to him, a man with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Then the strangest thing happened. Professor Quirrell turned his head to talk to the man on his other side, who appeared to have at least one fake limb. As he did, Harry felt a sudden unpleasant hot spike of pain in his forehead.

"Ouch!"

"What?" Blaise asked.

"I—nothing." The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harry wondered idly if this was some sign telling him he shouldn't be at Hogwarts. It certainly wasn't the first hint he'd gotten.

Then the boy from the robe shop walked up behind Harry.

"Well, well, well. It appears that Potter has come to Hogwarts after all, doesn't it. I didn't hear about him on the train, so I thought perhaps the rumors that Dumbledore had hidden him away for secret training were true. But here you are."

Harry noticed Blaise suddenly stiffen. "Malfoy," the long-haired boy said.

"Zabini," Malfoy replied. There was no friendliness in either boy's tone. "I see that you managed to make friends already, and with the Boy-Who-Lived no less. Well done."

"Not all of us believed the rumors. And as he is clearly here, I saw no harm in saying hello." Harry noticed that Blaise omitted their discussion of the train.

"I can't argue that sentiment, Zabini. I felt it prudent to do much the same thing."

At this point, Harry was getting fed up with the crushing formalities. "Well hi," he said, "I'm Harry."

Malfoy laughed at that. "Everyone knows your name, Potter! Good one! My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Harry noticed suddenly that both boys had introduced themselves by last name first, as though that were more important.

"It's nice to meet you," Harry said as he'd been taught.

"Likewise, Potter. It seems you didn't turn out as bad as everyone thought. Keep it up." And on that mysterious note, Draco walked away.

Harry stared after him. "What did he mean by that?" he wondered aloud.

"He hasn't heard who you rode the train with," Blaise said. Harry turned to see the boy staring directly at him. "I don't suppose you're aware of it, the way you keep talking, but there's a rather large separation in the wizarding world. There are the people like us, or Malfoy and I at least, who maintain the old beliefs faithfully, and there are the people like Longbottom, who have chosen to stand against those beliefs. And then there are people like this Hermione you mentioned. She doesn't have magical parents, so she isn't terribly important, even though people like Longbottom or Dumbledore might argue otherwise."

Harry stared at Blaise in disbelief. Hermione wasn't worth much? She knew more than he did! "Why isn't she worth much?" he asked.

"Magical blood runs strong in the old families like ours. Hermione or any other mu-er, muggleborn simply can't manage to be as good as we are."

Harry didn't know much, but that sounded like the prejudice against black people, or immigrants. Hadn't that been done away with years ago? "And how do you know that?"

"It's obvious," Blaise said as though explaining to a young child, "no mu – muggleborn has ever amounted to anything, and no muggleborn ever will."

He sounded an awful lot like Hagrid when the large man had said that all Slytherins were evil. But apparently Slytherins thought just about the same about others.

The food on their plates turned to dessert. Harry gathered a few tasty looking items and began to eat, reflecting as he did on the views of the wizarding world. And then one of the ghosts from earlier came floating over, arranging himself in a sitting position next to Harry.

"My word, you really are here. I could hardly believe my ears when the Hat said you were sorted into my house, but the Malfoy lad confirmed that you are indeed here!" The ghost was covered in a disturbing amount of what appeared to be ghostly blood. Suddenly Harry wasn't very hungry.

"Apparently no one can believe it," Harry said as he put down his fork, "I didn't realize the wizarding world was so complicated."

"Why not, my boy? Surely you were raised hearing all about it!"

Harry sighed. That had been worrying him the whole time. "No. I was raised by muggles. They never told me about magic or anything."

"Raised by muggles? They never told you anything! What is this? My boy, you are a celebrity in our world! Why would you be raised away from it?"

"I think…it was to protect me from it. No one knew where I was, so I was safer," Harry said, remembering what Neville had said. Then a thought struck him. "But…I did wonder. What about what we were talking about earlier, Blaise? Will being raised by muggles affect my ability to…do magic?"

Blaise looked shocked at the question. "I…I don't know," he said, "I wouldn't think so, but I've never heard of something like that before."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, my boy," the ghost offered, "I've yet to see a student flounder terribly in their first few days at Hogwarts. You'll be no different, mark my words. Now, I must be off."

Harry didn't feel very comforted by that at all. How many people like him could that ghost really have known? He was probably going to be a miserable failure. Even Hermione had an edge on him, because she'd studied ahead of time. Maybe he could talk to her about that before classes started tomorrow?

"Well, that's the Bloody Baron. He's the Slytherin ghost," Blaise said after the Baron had floated out of earshot, "Just don't ask him about the blood, apparently it's a very touchy subject." Harry nodded glumly and picked up his fork to poke at his treacle tart. As if to spite him, the tart vanished before he could touch it, along with the fork in his hand.

Dumbledore-Professor Dumbledore, Harry thought, he was in school now, stood up again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem—just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed briefly over the crowd.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term, anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry didn't quite manage a laugh at that, though some did.

"Is he serious?" Harry asked Blaise.

"I don't see why he wouldn't be," the boy said, "but I also don't know why a corridor would be off limits like that. Very painful death is usually kept outside of Hogwarts. The forest is full of deadly beasts, for example, but that's something you have to deliberately wander into."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore, Harry corrected himself. Harry noticed that the other professors' smiles had become rather fixed.

Professor Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the whole school bellowed:

 _Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

 _Teach us something please,_

 _Whether we be old and bald_

 _Or young with scabby knees,_

 _Our heads could do with filling_

 _With some interesting stuff,_

 _For now they're bare and full of air,_

 _Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

 _So teach us things worth knowing,_

 _Bring back what we forgot,_

 _Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

 _And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everybody finished the dong at different times. At last, only a pair of redheads in Gryffindor was left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Professor Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

An older student, who Harry quickly realized was a prefect, gathered all of the first years to guide them down to the dungeons, where the common room apparently was. They were delayed somewhat just outside of the great hall, when the prefect's left shoe turned into a large banana just as he was about to take his first step down the stairs. The prefect changed his shoe back so quickly that it was obvious he'd had practice.

"Now that is the danger of a crowd," he said, getting back up and dusting himself off, "Can anyone tell me who fired the spell?" No one could. "Exactly. Always watch your back in a crowd, and never forget the opportunities they present for anonymity."

On that odd note they then proceeded to the dungeons as if nothing had happened. Harry noticed one of the students edging off to the right. Suddenly, the letters MB appeared on the prefect's back. They were a lurid green and impossible to miss. But then they abruptly disappeared. Without turning, the prefect said, "I'm afraid you have lost the advantage of a large crowd, Mr. Nott." The boy who had edged a bit right faltered for a step, but quickly rejoined the group. Harry wondered whether this prefect could be like he always was back at the Dursley's, picked on by everyone who didn't just avoid him. Nevertheless, nothing else interrupted their trip before the stopped in front of a nondescript stone wall.

"Now, as I'm sure most of you are aware, what I am about to tell you is a great secret and so on. Sharing what you see with anyone outside of Slytherin house will result in… _consequences_." He spoke the last word as though nothing could be more awful. " _C_ _orvus oculum corvi non eruit."_ A hole opened in the wall behind the prefect. "Remember those words. Know them. If you forget them outside of our common room, you may never get back in."

Leading the way into the room beyond, the prefect pointed out a few features. "The girls' dormitories are down that hallway, and the boys' down that one. This is the common room, where you will now wait for our head of house. When he is done introducing himself, you may do as you wish." The prefect proceeded to pull a book out of his robes and sit on a couch nearby.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of it all. That password had definitely been too long. He wasn't sure how he would ever remember it. And who was their head of house? The last question was answered as a voice drawled from behind the group.

"Welcome to Slytherin, students," the hook-nosed professor from earlier began, "I am Professor Snape, your new head of house. It is my job to show you the ropes.

"You are in a house of great prestige and as such there are standards to uphold. Any foolishness or rule breaking will be swiftly and harshly discouraged. We are Slytherins, not foolish baboons. As such we must always present an image of perfection and unity to the school at large. Anyone who acts against another Slytherin outside of this room or their dorms will be punished in the most severe way I can manage and I assure you I am…creative. Outside of this room, we are one united front, unassailable. Any disagreements will be silent, saved for this room. If there are problems, you may report to me in my office." Professor Snape paused to glower at the group, as though to say that he wished he didn't have to allow such a thing. "Am I understood?"

Though he spoke barely above a whisper, he commanded the attention in the room perfectly. No one moved a muscle as he spoke, and when he finished, most hastily said, "Yes, sir." With one last glance over the whole group that Harry noticed never seemed to reach him, the professor turned and left. The group of students began to slowly disperse.

Harry wasn't really sure what to think. It didn't sound like their head of house actually wanted to discourage arguments and differences of opinion, he just wanted those arguments to be hidden from the public. It reminded him unpleasantly of the Dursleys' attitude toward him, though at least Professor Snape didn't want to stamp out dissension. Probably.

Putting that issue back in his mind for the moment, Harry approached the prefect, who was still sitting in a chair with his book. "Um, excuse me?"

"Yes?" the prefect replied without looking up.

"I…I was wondering how we're supposed to remember such a long password. It doesn't even make sense!"

The prefect slowly lowered his book. He then turned to Harry and said, "I always break it up. The password is currently five words, so I memorize each one individually and then focus on ordering them correctly in my head, so that I can recall them as one phrase."

"So you just memorize…corpus whatever—"

" _Corvus,"_ the prefect corrected.

"You just remember the separate words though?"

"Yes. I can help you, if you wish. It begins with _corvus_ …" and the boy coached Harry until he could remember the whole password, in order, even after being distracted with a sudden game of tic-tac-toe. Harry wasn't sure what that was about, but he didn't question the older boy. As he thanked the prefect and got ready to leave, however, he realized he still hadn't asked the older boy's name.

"I'm sorry, but what's your name?" Harry asked.

The prefect stared for several long seconds at Harry before replying, "Max Barrett. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Potter." Max then extended his hand to shake.

"J-just Harry," Harry replied, surprised the older boy had used his last name.

Max shook his hand firmly, then released it, saying, "Thank you, Harry. You may know this, but first names aren't used much in this house. It's refreshing to find someone else willing to use them." And with that bizarre pronouncement, he walked off to the boy's dormitories.

After a moment, Harry followed, wondering just how confusing things were going to get. Magic and magical people certainly never seemed straightforward, at least not in Slytherin house. First a hidden pub, then a hidden alley, then a hidden train platform, then a hidden common room full of people who didn't even use their first names. What else would he have to deal with?

He found the dorm labeled First Years, perhaps halfway down the hall. He hesitated outside the door, remembering all the years he'd spent in a closet. This would be different, of course, but who would he be with? Blaise at least, and Draco. But who else? There was only one way to find out. Harry pushed open the door and caught the tail end of a word from the occupants within.

"…east—" the boy's voice cut off as Harry opened the door and once again all eyes fell onto him.

"Um…Hello?" Harry managed.

"Well now, Potter did show up!" The boy who had been talking as Harry walked in said, "We thought perhaps you were trying to get away from the house, to insist there was a mistake. But here you are. Welcome to Slytherin house, Potter!" the boy swept his arms around him as he finished. The others were eerily silent, with blank expressions. Harry found himself unconsciously matching them with the expression he always wore when Dudley finally caught him, blank refusal to show emotion of any sort.

"Thanks, I guess," Harry said slowly, "I wasn't really expecting to be here, but I wouldn't run, either. I was just asking a few questions."

The boy who had spoken before looked at him appraisingly. "Well then, since you're staying, introductions are in order. Draco tells me he's already introduced himself, and Blaise says the same, but I'm Theodore Nott, and those two are Crabbe and Goyle." Theodore, who was slightly short, with brown hair, pointed at the two boys standing near Malfoy. They seemed more like bodyguards than anything else, as they were extremely thickset and mean-looking.

"It's nice to meet you," Harry replied. He figured after Draco's reaction he didn't need to introduce himself. Theodore had even called him by name. Did everyone know everyone else here already?

"If you say so, Potter," Draco said before walking over to the bathroom as though they'd all stopped existing. Harry looked around the room for the first time, and noticed that his trunk was by the bed furthest from the door on the left side. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had been standing on the right, so they probably slept there, while Blaise and Theodore slept on his side. The bathroom door was right next to the exit into the hallway, and Harry did a double take when he saw the impossible room through it, before remembering Platform 9 ¾ and deciding that this wasn't too much more difficult to believe. Moving over to his bed, Harry suddenly realized how tired he was. Barely managing to strip of his outer robe and shoes, Harry lay down on the bed, asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

He had a strange dream that night. Professor Quirrell was there, and a voice seemed to come from his turban. The voice said something Harry couldn't quite make out, but he could tell that it wanted him to leave. It wanted him to go back to being alone like he always had been. But then the dream ended. Harry rolled over and remembered nothing of it the next morning.

* * *

The following morning Harry woke very slowly. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw that the dorm room was completely empty. Suddenly wide awake, Harry shot out of bed. Realizing that he was probably late for breakfast, and maybe even lessons, he hurriedly put on his shoes and robes from the day before. The dormitory door shut with a jarring slam as he rushed down the hallway and through the common room. He repeated the password, _corvus oculum corvi non eruit,_ to himself like Max had suggested he do to avoid forgetting it. Then he exited the room, watching in mild amazement as the wall disappeared and reappeared. He then found himself completely lost. All he knew was that he was somehow supposed to go up.

Rushing off in the direction he _thought_ he'd come the night before, Harry quickly found the castle to be a very confusing place to get around in. Everything seemed to move, even the staircases at times, and even though he was only two floors below the Great Hall, it took him at least ten minutes to find the first staircase. The second was much easier to find, as Harry was vaguely familiar with the route from there, and Harry found himself suddenly outside the Great Hall, panting desperately for breath. To his relief, there were still people there. Hurrying over to the Slytherin table, Harry found Blaise, sat next to him, and began to load a plate.

"He lives!" Blaise exclaimed, "We didn't know whether you were going to wake up at all."

"Why didn't you try to wake me up?" Harry demanded before sinking his teeth into a link of sausage.

Blaise pause for a second before saying, "Look mate, in Slytherin most people just leave you alone unless there's a personal issue. We figured you would get up when you felt like it."

Harry paused, swallowing. "So I have to wake up on my own?" The concept was almost foreign to him.

"I wouldn't worry mate, you seemed to do pretty well today. Didn't you have some kind of alarm charm, or whatever the muggle version was?"

"My relatives always woke me up," Harry said.

"Oh. Well here we usually use an alarm charm, since our parents aren't here to wake us up anymore, and they're hard for someone else to tamper with if they want to make you late. I can teach it to you, if you like."

"Thanks," said Harry gratefully as he finished his sausage. The rest of breakfast passed uneventfully, until the food disappeared halfway through a bite of eggs. Harry was fine, he'd gotten more than usual, and if the meals so far were an indication, there'd be plenty at lunchtime.

To distract everyone, however, Professor Snape began handing out class schedules. He appeared to be handing them out by year, hardly glancing Harry's way when he handed the schedule over. Examining the schedule, Harry saw seven classes divided into a very complicated pattern, if it could be called that. History of magic Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday at the same time, which was easy enough, but then there were things like astronomy every Tuesday at midnight and Herbology every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday, but at different times. Some classes had more sessions, some had less, and none made sense to Harry. He supposed it was like the common room password, he'd just have to go over it enough times that it stuck. Maybe he'd divide it into days. Nonetheless, Harry followed the sudden mass exodus from the great hall and attempted to keep up with anyone his size wearing a Slytherin robe. Or a Hufflepuff robe, because his first class was charms with the Hufflepuffs.

Apparently Charms was on the second floor, left hand side, whatever that meant. The second floor was easy, as the big staircase outside the Great Hall didn't appear to move at all and their was another just above it, but Harry managed to get immediately lost in the maze of corridors that was the second floor. He'd managed to lose any other students he could have followed, so he tried going left, going right, and turning around to go back the way he'd come, but nothing worked. Finally, nearly mad with frustration, Harry spotted a group of students who looked more or less his size. On closer examination, yes! They were all Hufflepuffs or Slytherins. Harry even saw Blaise and Draco. He stood somewhat near the edge and waited to be let in with everyone else.

Neither of his other classes for the day was any easier to find. Indeed, they were much harder, as he had to find his way to and from the staircase each time. By the end of the day, Harry thought he might be onto something, but was too tired to check. And each of the classes was draining as well. None were quite what he was expecting, and there was definitely a lot of work he needed to do before he was any good at anything. In Charms, Professor Flitwick (after reading Harry's name on the roll and falling off the stack of books he needed to be any taller than the students) allowed them to try a few basic wand movements and then spells. Harry wasn't nearly as good as any of his housemates, and even a few of the Hufflepuffs were outdoing him. This pattern continued with the Ravenclaws in Herbology, except the Ravenclaws were even better than the Hufflepuffs at answering the questions right.

History of Magic was another story entirely, as the teacher was dead. And not the kind of dead that excused the students from class, either, Professor Binns was a ghost. He also droned on and on, reminding Harry vaguely of a vacuum cleaner. The professor got everyone's names wrong before they realized that this was a teacher who didn't really answer questions, or deviate from his lecture at all. They'd get by on the book or not at all, and Harry saw that many of his housemates had taken this idea to heart; either using the time to read or complete the minimal Charms homework they'd been assigned. Professor Binns didn't even seem to notice when they practiced their wandwork. The Hufflepuffs they were once again learning with soon realized what was going on, though more of them decided to use the time as an impromptu napping opportunity than anything else.

After that class, Harry decided to see if he could find the library, and any of the far more interesting history books he'd seen his housemates reading, or even that book Hermione had been reading. What was it called? Hogwarts something… _Hogwarts History?_ No, it was _Hogwarts, a History._

It took Harry something like an hour, by his estimation, to reach the library. He wasn't really sure how he did find it in the end, either, because he'd had no idea where to look and just wandered, hoping to find something interesting, if not the library. At any rate, he was here now. One glance at the stern-looking librarian convinced Harry to search for books on his own. Fortunately, the library was arranged into sections that were far more intuitive than the castle's floors, and he was in the history section before he knew it. He spent a few minutes looking around at all the strange titles, from _Arithmantic Accuracy of Accounts_ to _Horrendous Horsemen_ and _Why You Should Never Read This Book._ He was just beginning to look for some of the titles he'd come here to find when he heard a small, "Oh," of surprise behind him. Turning, he saw Hermione standing there with a shocked expression.

"Oh hello there Hermione," he greeted her, "are you looking for better history books as well?"

Hermione grew even more shocked, if that were possible. "I…I mean…yes, I was. But what are you doing here? No, you said that. I'm sorry, it's been a weird day," she said this very quickly.

"I know! I can barely find anything in this castle, and the classes aren't easy either. I mean, everyone seems to know what they're doing better than me, and I'm not sure I even can catch up, because—" Harry stopped abruptly, remembering that Hermione had been the one person Blaise had been sure would do horribly in her classes.

Hermione looked at him funny, before rapidly saying, "Oh don't be silly, of course you'll catch up! I'm doing all right myself, and I couldn't even practice with magic at home. And the theoretical bits are even easier, because it's just like school was before, but with different subjects."

Harry was shocked. She'd actually been able to do well? But Blaise had sounded so sure. But maybe there was hope, "Do you think you could help me then?" he asked. Hermione just stared at him. "I mean, you know what it's like coming from the muggle world, and you seem to be doing a whole lot better than I am, and I really don't want to look bad in front of everyone because they're always looking at me like I'm some kind of circus animal about to do a trick and I just can't take it!" Harry breathed deeply a few times, suddenly realizing he'd said all that in one breath.

Hermione stared at him for another second, processing what he'd just said. Then, "I mean…of course I can help. I just thought…I thought…" she mumbled something so quietly that Harry couldn't hear her.

"What?"

"I…I…I've been hearing awful things about you since yesterday Harry! Everyone seems convinced that you're going to become some evil Dark Lord or something, and even though I keep telling them that's silly, they're sure they're right, and I think they're starting to lump me in with you because I cheered for you!"

At this point, the stern librarian came around the shelf and said, "Shush! This is a library and I will have quiet!" in the harshest whisper Harry had ever heard.

"Yes'm" the two children replied quickly and quietly. The librarian left with one last stern look. Harry turned to Hermione.

"People really…I mean, all that…and you stood up for me?"

"Yes," Hermione said in her smallest voice.

Harry was overcome by so much emotion he nearly cried. "Thank you so much," he said, "I thought that I didn't belong here. I thought that no one would want me after I went into a different house from my friends on the train. But you…" Harry couldn't even voice his feelings fully. The whole two days of stress were coming undone and it was all thanks to Hermione.

Hermione just stood there stiffly for several seconds. "You…you really thought that? That no one wanted you?" she seemed close to tears. Harry just nodded, not trusting his voice. Hermione sniffled for a few seconds, and then abruptly changed the subject.

"So, history books," she said, "I think we can find all we need in our textbooks from what I read, what were you looking for?"

Harry attempted to compose himself even as Hermione did the same, "Well, some of the other Slytherins had some books they were reading in the class that looked more interesting. I thought that maybe they'd make learning the stuff easier."

Hermione looked shocked, "They were reading in class! Why weren't they paying attention?"

"Hermione, didn't you just say we could probably get everything we needed from the books? We even tried asking a few questions for clarification, but he couldn't even get our names right, let alone answer our questions. If we can get the same thing from the books, is there really a point in paying attention to the lesson?"

"Of course there is Harry! It's respectful, and you never know when something might come up that isn't in the books. Besides, it's always easier to learn something after going through it multiple times, so going over the book separately will give you an edge, which we might very well need since we didn't grow up with all this!"

Harry had to admit she had a point. That was how he'd managed to memorize the password. With that settled, the two of them began looking for some of the books he'd seen the other Slytherins reading. When he brought up _Hogwarts, a History,_ Hermione turned a bit pink and said he could borrow her copy, because she didn't need it. When he asked why, she said something that sounded suspiciously like she'd memorized the whole book, but he didn't push the issue as she pulled the book out of her bag and handed it over.

When at last it was nearly dinnertime, they packed up and left. Hermione had apparently asked an older student for directions, and so they only got lost once on their way back to the Great Hall. Seperating with a wave and one last, "Thanks," Harry and Hermione made their ways over to their respective tables. This time, however, there was an unpleasant surprise waiting for Harry.

"Well, like father like son Potter. I suppose we shouldn't be too surprised, should we?" Draco's voice greeted Harry as he sat down.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked as he began serving himself.

"Your father shared your same…taste in women, Potter. That's all I'm saying. _Here."_ The last word was so quiet Harry almost missed it. As he began to eat, Harry realized what it meant. Draco couldn't go after Harry here, in public, so he was going to do it later, in their dorm. And apparently this all had to do with Hermione somehow. Why did everyone seem so convinced she wasn't worth anything? She was smarter than he was, and they were _all_ paying attention to him.

When at last desert had disappeared from his plate, Harry stood to leave. He quickly looked for Max, following the prefect out of the hall. He would pay more attention this time, and hopefully at least learn the way to his common room. He found himself rushing to keep up with the larger boy's stride, but he thought he managed to make note of at least most of the landmarks on the route. Things like picture frames and oddly shaped stones, because those (probably) wouldn't move. Suddenly, Max stopped, turning.

"It is always best, Harry, to ask for directions instead of following someone like that. Among other things, I had several opportunities to leave you behind and alone. You are also quite fortunate I stayed on the correct route to the dormitories. So, would you like to try again?"

Harry skidded to a stop several feet from Max. "I…Could you please tell me how to get to the dorms? And how to get around the castle without getting lost?"

Max looked quite pleased. "It would be my pleasure, Harry. It is my duty as a prefect to guide the younger students, after all. To begin with…" and he explained, much as he had the night before with the password, the tricks to remembering the way to the common room. "Now, as far as the rest of the castle is concerned, I can do one of two things. I could point you in the correct direction for each of your classes, or I could leave you to your own devices like most students. While the first may be easier, you will learn the castle much better if you have to learn it yourself. I have taught you all that you would need to know to figure out on your own how to navigate the castle."

Harry thought about that. He didn't really feel like he'd learned too much from wandering around, but Max had been right about everything else so far. Deciding to trust the older boy, Harry indicated his agreement and the two headed off toward the common room. Max had Harry lead most of the way; to be sure that he understood what Max had said. It wasn't until they had nearly reached the stretch of blank wall that Harry realized that the corridor they'd stopped in to talk wasn't on the route they'd discussed. It was so far off of it that they couldn't be seen from the proper route. Why did they stop so far away? Was Max so selective about his lessons that he felt the need for privacy? Harry was distracted by reciting the password, and the matter left his mind as he said goodnight to Max, whose dorm was closer to the common room than Harry's. Harry then walked the rest of the way to his own dorm, dreading what he knew was waiting. Only one thing kept him moving forward at all, and that was the curiosity about Draco's knowledge of what had happened in the library.

When he reached the door, Harry only hesitated a little before pushing it open. This time, no one was talking as he opened the door, but as soon as he opened it, Draco was in his face. "So, Potter, your true colors are revealed! A mudblood lover just like your father, and proud of it to boot! I shudder to imagine why you ended up in Slytherin, because all you seem good at is sullying our noble reputation, first with your mother's blood, then with your own…tastes."

Harry was indignant, "What's the big problem! Hermione's probably smarter than all of us, and I asked her for a bit of help! Is it my fault that she was the only other person in the library when I was studying? Just because you think muggleborns are worthless doesn't mean they are! I was _raised_ by muggles, but you still give me the time of day!"

"Oh? What have we here? Potter was raised to love muggles because he was raised _by_ muggles!" Draco said muggles as if it was an expletive, "And now the closest he can get is a _mudblood._ I don't think I can stand to be so near him!" The boy backed off, finally allowing Harry into the room.

"Well then you'll just have to deal with it! We sleep in the same dorm, and I'm not moving just because you don't like me!"

"Oh, it's not just Draco, Potter. None of us appreciate having you around," Theodore growled menacingly. Crabbe and Goyle simply cracked their knuckles and glared. Harry looked desperately at Blaise, but the boy was silent and blank-faced.

"Fine then!" Harry exploded, "Take it up with Professor Snape if it means so much to you! But I'm not going to leave my own room on your account!" Harry had lived with the Dursleys for as long as he could remember. Even if they did decide to make his life miserable, now he had other things to distract him. He was quite confident he could weather anything they threw at him.

Taking off his robe and shoes once more, Harry took advantage of the others' surprise to take the bathroom for himself, locking the door behind him. Harry changed and brushed his teeth, briefly remembering the spell Neville had mentioned. Maybe he'd ask about it sometime. As he finished and walked out of the bathroom, Harry saw all the other occupants of the dorm stonily staring at him in silence. Bearing it as he always did at the Dursleys, he got into bed, turned his back to them, and tried to clear his mind enough for sleep. After a short time, he heard movement behind him, but no words, but soon he didn't even hear that as he sank into sleep.

* * *

 **A/N: So before anything else, thanks to my other reviewer, Adlada. I do love my reviewers. At any rate, another chapter is here, and I do want to warn you that they won't all come so quickly, because school starts soon and will by necessity be a priority. For now, however, I can enjoy writing and planning without having to also do assignments requiring that I do the exact same thing for subjects I don't care about as much.**

 **If anyone has any clarifying questions about things that went differently than cannon, reviews are a good way to ask. I will PM anyone with minor questions or address the larger issues in an author's note. At any rate, I'm done now!**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, you might remember Adlada, the second reviewer on this story. Well, now I officially have a beta reader, so y'all should thank him for correcting my grammar issues. The unintentional ones anyway…I have to keep some of them in the interest of correctly quoting Rowling. Believe it or not, there were some issues in the book she never really expected to explode like it did.**

 **Also, thanks to my other reviewers, Maya Poltergeist, RiddleMeEvil01 (the evil returns ;) and one or two (or three or four) guests. It's hard to tell with (a) guest reviewer(s). And on a similar note, one of those guest reviewers was rather perceptive, if looking in slightly the wrong place. But that's all I'll say for now.**

* * *

The afternoon after Harry's outburst, Harry was surprised to find Blaise waiting for him outside the library. Fully prepared to ignore the boy, he was surprised to hear, "Harry, I'm sorry." That stopped him in his tracks.

"Harry…I really wish I could openly go against Malfoy and Nott. I want to be your friend, you're probably the most genuine person in Slytherin with any wizarding blood in you. But you have to understand that Malfoys dominate the political sphere in this country, or at least most of the parts that matter. No one can openly go against them, and since you chose to, no one can openly support you."

Harry looked at Blaise, taken aback. Thinking back, Blaise hadn't participated in the verbal abuse any more than Crabbe or Goyle, who he was beginning to suspect actually were little more than bodyguards. "So…what are you saying? We're friends, but only when no one's looking?"

"Exactly," Blaise looked relieved that he'd caught on so quickly, "I can help you like I offered to yesterday morning, and probably even more, but it has to stay quiet. It may not be great, but it's all I can do right now."

Harry looked at the boy for several long seconds, trying to get a good read on him for the first time. He supposed it did fit the house characteristics that he was only just beginning to learn, but he still didn't like it. And Blaise's opinion of Hermione, his only real friend so far apart from Neville, added to his hesitation. Still, it was probably an opportunity he shouldn't turn down. He couldn't keep turning to Max for help; the prefect was years older than him. "Well, I'm not going to turn down help in the face of enemies who probably know way more about magic than I do," Harry said, offering his hand. The gesture felt...right in the moment, even if it was an odd thing for someone his age to do. Blaise grasped his hand and shook it, looking pleased.

"So," the other boy said, "Shall we get started?"

Harry hesitated, "Well I was meeting Hermione here. I should probably do that alone, unless you feel like she can keep this a secret too."

Blaise's eyes fogged with thought for a short time. "No, she can be trusted. I don't think you really understand how much Gryffindors hate Slytherins, Harry. If she told anyone details about this they'd crucify her worse than they already will. I wouldn't even count on Longbottom's support; he's supposed to be rather timid."

Harry frowned, but let Blaise's comment about Neville pass as he led the way into the library. As they made their way over to the table he and Hermione had used the day before, he belatedly realized that Hermione might not like Blaise very much. But she'd already spotted him.

"Hello Harry," she said quietly when they got close, "Who's this?"

Remembering the librarian's rage the day before, Harry matched her quiet tone, "This is Blaise Zabini. He's…a friend. The rest of the boys in my dorm…don't like me so much. But he's decided to go behind their backs anyway."

Hermione looked shocked. "Why don't they like you, Harry? You're a perfectly nice guy, and I can't see you doing anything to upset them!"

Harry hesitated, but Blaise spoke up, "In Slytherin things are…quite complicated, I'm afraid. Among other things, Harry is the one person in out dorm of our year that we hadn't met before coming to school." Harry had gotten that feeling, but it was nice to know for sure.

"And that's enough reason to completely disregard everything else about him?" Hermione demanded, "I don't see why they can't just make new friends! It's no wonder no one likes Slytherins if they never even try to get to know other people!"

Blaise was too shocked to speak. Harry, feeling guilty for misdirecting Hermione, said, "That's not all, Hermione." Ignoring Blaise's sudden frantic motions to stop, Harry pushed on, "They also hate muggleborns so badly that just being friends with one is enough to taint me, apparently."

Hermione suddenly looked stricken. "You mean…it's my fault? I'm the reason that you…" she couldn't seem to finish the thought.

"No!" Harry said firmly, before remembering he needed to be quiet, "Look, Hermione, I chose to be friends with you. I'm not about to let a bunch of bullying jerks stop that, especially after what I had to put up with at the Dursley's. I've had enough of bowing my head and letting it happen, I'm going to fight back!" He was a bit startled by his own vehemence, but perhaps more startling was how deeply he meant it. He wasn't going to put up with this now that he had options, bullies be damned.

Both Hermione and Blaise were now looking at him in shock. There was a harsh, "Shush!" from the librarian, but they paid it no mind.

"You really…you still want to be my friend?" Hermione stuttered, "Even after I—I ruined things with y—your dorm mates?" Hermione began sniffling as she spoke. Harry couldn't stop himself as he pulled her into another hug. She'd comforted him yesterday, it was only fair to return the favor.

"Of course I do, Hermione. You're worth more than all of them put together." He caught a look from Blaise. "Except Blaise, but he's willing to look past the things that they just won't. Never think that some bullies can dictate your life. It won't do anyone any good. And you are going to prove them wrong someday, when you get better marks than all of them combined!"

Hermione's shoulders slowly shuddered to a stop. Blaise looked on awkwardly. "Th-thanks Harry," Hermione said at last, releasing the rather tight grip she'd wrapped him in, "Do you really think I can do so much better than them? I mean, they have to be studying too."

"Of course they are Hermione, but we have an advantage, don't we? We've been studying in school for years longer than them, and you're already doing just as well as they are. Whatcha say, Blaise, think we have a chance?"

Blaise, who looked slightly pale all of a sudden, took a few moments to answer. "I-yeah. If she really is doing that well, then…she probably could…"

"Ooh, really! Thank you Blaise!" Hermione said as she crashed into him with a hug. Just as quickly, she jumped back, as if burned. "Erm…sorry about that. I don't know what came over me there, I just…I…" Hermione trailed off as her face grew very red.

Blaise took several seconds to get over his shock, before mumbling something that sounded like, "socks," and going quiet again.

Trying to break the sudden tension, Harry said, "So Blaise, you said you could show me that wake-up spell?" This appeared to work, as both Blaise and Hermione slowly relaxed while Blaise explained and demonstrated the spell. After they were all sure they'd gotten it, Hermione asked Blaise for suggestions about history books, and from there they spent nearly the whole afternoon studying various subjects. Hermione had apparently heard rumors about Professor Snape that Blaise readily confirmed, so she began focusing on potion ingredients and techniques in preparation. Harry picked up a few things, but Blaise just studied Defense, saying that their head of house was always easier on Slytherins.

When dinner time grew nearer, Blaise suddenly got up. "I have to go. Like we said, Harry is on the outs with Slytherin house, and if I don't want the same thing to happen to me I should go to dinner separately."

"So your own social status is worth more than your friendship?" Hermione accused.

"Not…It's complicated, Granger," Blaise still hadn't gotten used to using first names, "Among other things, having a friend who isn't an outcast in Slytherin could come in handy."

Hermione glanced at Harry, but he understood what Blaise was getting at. She bit her lip, but let the issue pass. After waiting a few more minutes and packing up their things, Harry and Hermione followed Blaise down to the Great Hall. They were silent most of the way. Harry figured that Hermione probably had a lot to think about, so didn't say anything until she suddenly stopped. They were about to enter the entrance hall, which was public enough they would definitely be seen.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You…you should go ahead," Hermione said, "Maybe if you d-don't act friendly in p-public they'll…be nice again or something." She was clearly close to tears.

"Hermione, it isn't a matter of again," Harry soothed, "They were never nice to me, just guarded. They didn't treat me any differently than they would a stranger. Blaise was the only one who actually held a conversation with me before they saw us together, and even he's…well you saw today. He's not a normal friend. I need a normal friend, Hermione, and that means I can't treat you differently in public."

Hermione looked at him, her eyes filled with hope, "S-so you won't…put on an act or something? You'll always mean it?"

Harry looked directly into her eyes and said, "Hermione, if I did that it would hurt me just as much as it would hurt you. Blaise is different because Slytherin is weird and complicated, but you aren't that kind of complicated. You're a friendly, smart kind of complicated, and I don't think I could pretend we weren't friends."

Hermione looked for a moment like she wanted to hug him again, but just said, "Thank, Harry!" and practically skipped off ahead of him. Harry followed, wondering at the moods Hermione had managed in the span of only a few seconds. Were all girls like that? Harry pondered the matter as he waved goodbye once more and went to the Slytherin table. This time he sat on his own, near the end. He noticed that Hermione was similarly situated and briefly wondered if there was anything he could do about it. There probably wasn't if what Hermione said about her housemates was true. He wasn't very popular over there.

* * *

The rest of Harry's week proceeded at an appropriate pace. After his outburst, none of the boys in his dorm bothered him openly, though they took to glowering at him in private. Blaise was the only exception.

Harry was tired from Astronomy on Wednesday, which didn't help in his second Transfiguration class. He discovered just how correct he'd been to assume that Professor McGonagall wasn't someone to cross, and apparently lack of sleep was no excuse. Defense Against the Dark Arts was rather dull, if slightly better than History of Magic. Professor Quirrell and his classroom did always reek of garlic though, thoroughly balancing out any positive aspects of the class. Harry began to flourish under Hermione's tutelage as the week progressed, until he managed to answer at least as many questions as some of the Hufflepuffs. After managing to earn a few points for Slytherin, he didn't feel quite as behind as he had.

Harry was beginning to get the sneaking suspicion that his dorm mates were planning something. They were simply too distant and uninvolved and he didn't trust that to last. He resolved to ask Blaise about it over the weekend. The boy had been spending more time in the common room because the afternoon in the library had raised awkward questions.

At breakfast on Friday, Harry saw the first break in routine for the day. When Hedwig visited him at breakfast for a few bits of toast and a nip on the ear, she also had a letter for him. Seeing that it was from Hagrid, Harry quickly finished his toast and gave a piece to Hedwig before getting up from the table. He'd heard nothing nice about Hagrid from his housemates, and the opinion Draco had expressed in Madame Malkin's seemed to be rather widespread. Hedwig jumped to his shoulder as he rose, somehow managing to grip gently with her talons. Once in the entrance hall where he had a bit more privacy, Harry opened the letter.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to stay in touch even though school's started and we're both a bit busy. Send us an answer back with Hedwig._

 _Hagrid_

Harry got the quill Hermione had convinced him to carry around in the interest of practice and scribbled, _Yes please, I'll see you then_ on the back of the note. He then gave it back to Hedwig, remarking, "You really are a clever girl, aren't you, waiting for my reply?" she hooted a reply around the letter that sounded quite dignified, if muffled. Harry just smiled.

Harry then saw Hermione exit the Great Hall, heading straight over to him. "Who was that from?"

"The letter? That was from Hagrid, the guy who led us to the castle. He wanted me to visit this afternoon. Wanna come?"

"Sure," Hermione replied, before suddenly growing incredibly nervous. "But first we have to get through potions! The teacher is supposed to hate Gryffindors, and I don't know what I'll do!" She appeared to have been stressing out about this for some time.

"Hermione, you are quite possibly the smartest person I've ever met that wasn't teaching a class. You don't need to worry." Harry's attempt to calm her down didn't appear to work, however, as he still had to deal with Hermione's last minute quizzing while they walked to the dungeons the lesson was held in. Harry gathered from Hermione's nervous tone that the questions were for her benefit as much as his own.

"Hermione, relax," Harry said as they approached the door, "I'll sit with you, and that should deflect at least some of Professor Snape's apparent dislike for Gryffindors, right? Besides, you've been studying for at least a week, and then over the summer before that so he can hardly dislike you for any academic reason, can he?"

Hermione wasn't comforted as they entered the class and sat down. She muttered potion ingredients and stirring patterns under her breath until Professor Snape began to take roll.

When the teacher reached Harry's name, however, he paused for a beat, before saying, "Ah, Harry Potter. Our new— _celebrity."_

Draco and his friends sniggered behind their hands, stopping at a look from the professor. The teacher continued the roll normally before looking up at the class. His eyes were black and somehow colder than when he'd spoken to the Slytherin first years.

"You are here to learn the subtle and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in the same quiet voice he'd used in the common room, managing to keep the whole class's attention without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldrons with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses….I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Harry looked at Hermione to find that she was on the edge of her seat, and just as nervous as she was eager to prove herself. Harry himself was quite nervous, and the speech hadn't helped at all. By a glance around the room, he wasn't the only one.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

 _Asphodel…wormwood…doesn't it matter how you prepare the ingredients?_ Harry suddenly wished very much that he had paid more attention to Hermione's mad studying. Her hand shot into the air with little hesitation.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's expression was unreadable. His words were considerably less so.

"Well now, fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Hermione gave Harry a look that said he should clearly know this one. He thought back to what they'd gone over on bezoars…of course! "The stomach of a goat, sir," Hermione had actually asked him that exact same question on the way to the class.

"Oh, so you have studied? Then you should be able to tell me the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane." Snape's expression seemed less unfriendly now, if only just.

Harry had actually found that one when Hermione had enlisted his help researching werewolves. "Those are two different names for the same plant, sir, most famously used in the wolfsbane potion, which popularized the name wolfsbane."

Hermione gave him an approving glance. He may not be able to regurgitate entire textbooks like she could, but he did remember the more interesting tidbits like that one.

Snape stared into Harry's eyes for a long moment, before turning and addressing the whole class. "You should take notes, class, Harry is quite right, in addition to being famous. Now, as he failed to remember, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. There are many names for monkshood and wolfsbane, one among them being aconite. In addition, he failed to mention that a bezoar will save you from most poisons. Such details are crucial in potions, and should not be forgotten. Should you forget the useful properties of a bezoar, for example…" Snape trailed off, leaving that unpleasant thought to the imagination.

Soon after this, Snape had them working on a potion of their own. Harry could tell that the lecture on accuracy had greatly increased everyone's attention to detail. He could also tell, however, that Snape really did favor Slytherin and detest Gryffindor. He showered Draco in praise while criticizing any Gryffindor he caught doing something slightly off of the instructions. He seemed content to ignore Harry and Hermione, which wasn't terribly odd in and of itself. Hermione was doing superb work and Harry was following the instructions carefully enough that he was safe as a Slytherin, even if Hermione hadn't been there to guide him. But the man never even seemed to look at Harry and Hermione's table. It was almost as though Snape was avoiding them. Deciding that the head of Slytherin house definitely had a good reason, and could even be keeping an eye on them without their knowledge, Harry put the matter out of his mind as he focused on brewing.

There was one memorable incident when Neville nearly blew up his cauldron, but fortunately his partner, who was apparently named Seamus from Snape's rant at the two, spotted the mistake before anything unfortunate could happen. Unfortunately, Neville and Seamus were assigned an essay and given a zero for the day as Snape vanished their potion and told them to observe the other students in hopes of "learning how to brew _correctly."_ Seamus gravitated to some of his fellow Gryffindors, but Neville ended up sitting near Harry and Hermione, watching as the two worked. There wasn't much to talk about, and Neville was already in hot enough water, so the three exchanged few words about potions and nothing else during the remainder of the lesson.

The professor took their sample of potion without comment at the end of the class, but Harry could have sworn the man looked at it for just a moment longer than was necessary. Then the moment passed, and Snape was as inscrutable as ever.

As Harry and Hermione left the dungeon, they were surprised to see Neville join them. From what Hermione had been able to tell over the past week, the boy was having plenty of trouble in class and out, with academics and teasing about his lack of ability. She'd talked to him a few times, but he'd shied away from contact with her, as she attracted the same hecklers he was trying to avoid. Not that Ron and Dean were that bad, from what Hermione had said, but Neville was apparently incredibly insecure.

The boy didn't really try to join their conversation, though they did try to include him a few times. When they reached the Great Hall for lunch, he split off from both of them with a barely audible goodbye. Harry stared after him for a second before waving goodbye to Hermione as had become custom, and going to sit at what was quickly becoming his designated spot at the end of the Slytherin table. He'd even started to notice some of his favorite foods appearing there more often than elsewhere.

Today, however, there was also a note under his plate, out of sight, but causing the plate to be uneven and rock. Taking it out and subtly integrating it into the notes he'd planned on studying anyway, Harry read the note.

 _I need to talk to you about class today._

 _Don't come back to the common room until curfew._

 _Don't talk until we've met._

Harry didn't recognize the handwriting, but he could guess the note was from Blaise. They'd been careful for the past few days, and Harry had dutifully avoided contact. Clearly something had changed, allowing them to at least talk. That was nice. But what had been so special about class? It hadn't seemed terribly unusual to Harry, except for Snape's unusual avoidance of him after singling him out. And why couldn't he talk about the meeting? Harry assumed that's what Blaise meant, but he hoped their relationship could be more friendly and less cloak-and-dagger at some point. Why did he have to be in Slytherin, of all houses? It seemed this stuff was just second nature to everyone in Slytherin except him, and Harry wasn't sure he'd ever get used to it. He was sure he didn't like it.

After the meal, he met up with Hermione and headed to the library with her to study. He found himself looking forward to the visit with Hagrid just to break up the constant studying he'd been doing with Hermione for the past week. He certainly appreciated the results, and didn't have much else to do, but he was ready for a break. He secretly hoped that Hermione would notice that a break was nice as well, and ease up just a little.

At a quarter to three, they started packing up their things and headed out to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid lived in a small wooden house on the edge of the forbidden forest. A crossbow and a pair of galoshes were outside the front door.

When Harry knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Then Hagrid's voice rang out, saying, " _Back,_ Fang— _back."_

Harry saw Hermione's face grow distinctly nervous. Hagrid's big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open.

"Hang on," he said. " _Back,_ Fang."

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. Hermione's face changed from nervous to curious at once.

There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling in the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt.

"Well, make yerselves at home," said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded straight at Harry and began licking his ears. Harry was quite surprised, but reflected that it did seem just like Hagrid to keep a massive, friendly boarhound as a pet.

Managing to distract Fang's attention from his ears by sacrificing his hands to the slobber fest, Harry said, "This is Hermione," motioning with his head at the girl who was tentatively petting at Fang's hindquarters.

Hagrid had begun pouring boiling water into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate. "Ah, Miss Granger, even I been hearin' things about you 'round these parts. You've made quite an impression on your teachers, you have."

Hermione blushed at this, suddenly very interested in petting Fang. Fang awarded this attention by licking her face several times. "Oh! Fang-pleah! Stop it…Fang…stop," after her face was soaked, Hermione finally managed to sufficiently restrain Fang. At Harry's very heavily muffled giggle (he was _trying_ to be polite) she gave him a look that convinced him thoroughly to never speak of this again.

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that almost broke their teeth, but Harry and Hermione pretended to enjoy them as they began to discuss their first week at Hogwarts with Hagrid. Hermione eagerly told Hagrid about every point she'd earned in detail. Somewhere around Wednesday she caught the glazed, but mildly amused look in Harry's eye and suddenly went red again, attempting to take a large bite out of her rock cake.

While she worked on that, Harry began telling Harry about the lessons with the Slytherins, and how he was managing to learn quite a bit, sometimes just by watching he housemates as they subtly defied the instructions while managing to boost their performance. He almost wished he could actually hang around the common room without having to deal with his roommates, and found himself saying as much to Hagrid.

"Aah, you can't let those…kids get yeh down, Harry. And from what yeh've said, it sounds like yeh've made some good friends so far. Jus' keep doin' what yeh've been doin' and yeh'll surpass them all one day." Hagrid's face then got a mischievous air about it. "If anything, I think Hermione here's the one's got anything to worry abou'. She's doin' jus' fine, but yer mum was just like her, muggleborn an' all, and yeh might take after her."

Harry perked up at the mention of his mum. "My mum was as good as Hermione? What was she like?"

Hagrid's eyes grew misty. "Ahh, Lily. Now, I don' have the whole story, mind, but she liked to pay a visit every once in a while for a chat. Now I'm not sure comparin' you an' Lily is really fair, Hermione, 'cause it sounds to me like you study to get better, where Lily jus'…had this way with charms. Potions too, come to think of it. She did well at everythin' naturally, but she really shone in those two. Mighty impressive, it was…" Hagrid trailed off, clearly lost in the memories.

"What kind of things did she do?" Harry asked eagerly. Hagrid looked back down at him.

"Oh, it was incredible," the man began, before going into detail about the charms Lily had demonstrated to him over the years. Conjuration and animation, little tricks and pranks, and apparently even a fully conjured and convincing unicorn in her fifth year.

"An' tha's not the half of it, she was a dab hand at potions, too. Usually I'd ask Professor Slughorn when I needed somethin' overly complicated, but sometimes she'd find out and manage to get the potion to me faster. Sometimes it even worked better than I'd asked for, and never in a bad way either. She was a genius, your mother. Oh, she was jus'…jus'…" Hagrid let a loud sniffle as he trailed off.

Glancing about in a desperate attempt, Harry noticed a gleam in Hermione's eyes. Remembering suddenly the time he'd figured out exactly what that gleam meant, Harry launched into a story about Wednesday afternoon in the library, when Hermione had discovered human transfiguration. She'd gotten that same gleam in her eyes as she gushed to Harry about the practical applications of such a skill for nearly ten minutes, before Harry had stopped her, asking what was involved in hopes that she would just learn it (and maybe help him do the same) and quit bothering him. Her face had fallen there, and she'd told him that it would take years to learn at least, and they were better off focusing on their current transfiguration work and building up to human transfiguration like everyone else, as it would build a more balanced skill set anyway.

Seeing that Harry had successfully gotten Hagrid's mind off of his mother and brought the conversational mood back, Harry relaxed as they went back to swapping tales about their first week back. As Hermione attempted to embarrass him back for telling the story about human transfiguration, however, Harry noticed a small piece of paper that was lying on the table under the tea cozy. Pulling it out, he saw it was a cutting from the _Daily Prophet._ The headline caught his attention, and before he knew it he found himself reading:

 **GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST**

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

The 31st of July? But that was his birthday, the day he'd been at that same bank. "Hagrid," said Harry, "This happened the same say we visited, look! It might've been happening while we were there!"

Hagrid grunted and offered Harry another rock cake. Having had ample opportunity to watch and learn from his housemates, Harry suspected Hagrid was hiding something. And doing a fairly shoddy job of it, too. On the few occasions he'd known enough about a conversation he overheard to identify a lie, the Slytherins outperformed Hagrid by a mile. That wasn't surprising, really, given the house's disposition.

Still, Harry couldn't help but wonder what Hagrid wasn't talking about as he and Hermione walked back to the castle for dinner, weighed down by rock cakes they'd been too polite to refuse. Hagrid had been handling some secret business that day, and had emptied a vault as well. Could that be a coincidence? Had Hagrid removed whatever was in that package just in time?

* * *

These matters slowly shifted rearward in Harry's mind as he remembered Blaise's note at lunch. Harry found himself wondering once again what Blaise wanted to talk about. Harry met Hermione briefly after dinner, but she was heading off to her dorm for the night, so Harry headed to the library to kill time before curfew. The library was quickly becoming something like home to him, with how much time he spent there avoiding the rest of the school. He suddenly understood why Hermione spent so much time there. She was similar to him, if for different reasons. All the more reason to get out and do something else once in a while.

As curfew drew nearer, Harry began packing his things. When he figured he had exactly enough time to get back, Harry started toward the common room. To his surprise, however, he found Blaise waiting for him on his route, leaning against a wall.

"Well, good. You got my note, and you realized what it meant," Blaise greeted.

"Yeah. I didn't figure anyone else would need to talk to me so badly, but also need to hide a note just to arrange a conversation. So what's this about?"

"Well, like I said in the note, it's about Potions class today. Did you notice anything…odd…about Professor Snape when he was talking to you?"

Harry thought about it. He wasn't really the best judge, because he wasn't very familiar with the man. "It was a bit odd that he didn't single anyone else out like that, but not really. I mean, I actually kind of expected him to ignore Hermione once I saw his expression, just because of what you told me about him."

Blaise hummed to himself in thought. "Well then it appears he wasn't very successful."

"Wait, what? What do you mean?"

Blaise looked at Harry, clearly calculating something, or trying to, if the frustration in his eyes was anything to go by. "Well…I think he was trying to send you a secret message, but I haven't been able to figure it out at all. What I do know of the language of flowers makes so little sense in context that…" Blaise trailed off stopping. Looking around, Harry noticed that they were approaching the common room. "Look, just…try to figure it out, okay? You might be able to get further than I did. The language of flowers is a really antiquated way of sending messages, but I've…picked up a few things from my mother over the years.

"Oh yeah, and we should probably keep minding our distance like we have been, too. I'll approach you, okay?" The boy then turned and walked toward the common room. Harry stayed for a minute or two, getting the feeling that showing up alongside Blaise to the common room wouldn't be too wise. On top of that, he needed to think about the boy's words. The language of flowers? A secret message? Come to think of it, Snape had asked after the uses and properties of three or four flowers. Asphodel and wormwood he remembered well, because Hermione had told him that they did make the Draught of Living Death like the Professor had said, but from the looks of that potion, they wouldn't be expected to know about it any time soon, let alone recognize the two key ingredients.

Then there was…something about monkshood? Oh right, it was about identifying monkshood and wolfsbane as two different plants. And there'd been a question about bezoars in there as well. Resolving to attempt to learn about this language of flowers over the weekend so that he might figure out what all of this meant, Harry headed into his dorm, passing an older prefect on their way out to patrol at the entrance to the common room. The prefect spared him a glance, but little more. Apparently the prefect was in a good mood. Harry didn't think he had given himself more time than he needed, although he hadn't really paid attention to the time while he talked with Blaise.

Arriving in his dorm room to find that his dorm mates were settled firmly into their nightly routines and ignoring him as usual, Harry went to bed without much further thought.

* * *

 **A/N: Well, it took longer to get out, but I did warn you that these chapters won't all come as fast as the second one did. They may not even all come as fast as this one did, should dire circumstances hit. I did get over a major hump, however, where I had about nine spare hours in every 24 and desperately needed them to sleep. Now I should be able to find much more time for writing, so look forward to that.**

 **This was also my first beta read chapter (another round of applause for Adlada) so it took a bit longer just to start that process. Now that it's started though, the chapters shouldn't be as far apart, because by the time I'm posting this a fair amount of work has had time to get done on the next chapter. And so the pattern will continue (crosses fingers) barring life's usual tomfoolery. But at any rate, y'all have a nice day.**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Good afternoon.**

* * *

When Harry woke up on Saturday, he found that he was alone in the room. He'd let himself sleep in a bit, not bothering with the charm Blaise had taught him, and apparently the other boys were already up and about. Or, more likely, they'd vacated his 'offensive' presence as a subtle statement of their distaste. Harry was growing very familiar with the snubbing offered to him by nearly his entire house. He got the feeling they weren't eager to try anything, which made sense when Harry remembered that he'd apparently been responsible for the defeat of the most feared wizard of the age. That didn't help his social life very much, however, as Hermione, Blaise, Max, and most of the professors were among the few who were actually willing to hold a civil conversation with him.

If Harry hadn't found a close friend in Hermione, he wasn't sure he'd be able to cope. She kept him sane, and in return, he got the feeling he was a similar anchor for her. While they usually discussed other things, Hermione came off as a lonely girl, one who didn't really know how to make or keep friends. Harry got along just fine with her, once he got used to her tendency to bossiness and obsession with studying. It wasn't hard to put up with, really, because she wasn't especially malicious, like the Dursleys had been, and he was throwing himself into his studies pretty hard for similar reasons to Hermione. He also wasn't afraid to let her know when she got a bit intense, as she did when Harry told her about his conversation with Blaise.

"You mean Blaise left you a note and told you to meet him _and you didn't tell me?"_ Hermione was quite incensed.

"Hermione, you know how he is. He told me not to tell anyone, and he barely told me anything himself. For all I knew, it could have been something private other people shouldn't know about!" It was a weak defense; Harry hadn't really considered the possibility. But one lesson Dudley had unintentionally impressed upon Harry was that the lies that were technically truth came out far more readily and were more defensible and sturdy in the long run.

"And what could have been so private that I shouldn't know about it, Harry? I thought I was your best friend!"

"Hermione, you are my best friend! Heck, considering how my…relationship with Blaise works, you may be my only real friend!"

"So why didn't you tell me?" Hermione had been raising her voice, and was practically shouting at this point. Harry just held up his hand with three fingers raised. He slowly put one down, then the next, and finally the last finger clenched into a fist just as Madam Pince burst around the corner.

"Quite down, you two!" the librarian thundered, her righteous fury seeming to billow her clothes with incredible drama.

"Yes, madam," Harry said contritely, "I'm sorry for the disturbance."

Madam Pince looked at him with equally large amounts of surprise and suspicion before abruptly turning around with a quick, "Don't let it happen again," and walking away.

Harry gave Hermione a long look. "We can take this somewhere else if you really want to shout your heart out at me. I am sorry though. I thought I'd respect Blaise's wishes, since he's the closest thing I have to a friend in my own house. To be honest, since he didn't tell me whether I should talk to you, he may even be upset that I told you. He probably won't, because he knows that anything I research, I ask for your help with. But just…I don't know, could you try to take that into account?"

Hermione, who had been quite visibly shocked by Madam Pince's arrival and scolding, just stared at Harry in shock for several seconds. "I…of course…I'm sorry Harry. I guess I didn't think…"

Now Harry felt like a complete jerk. Once again pondering the duplicity Hermione's emotions presented, he said gently, "Hey, it's okay. I understand why you were upset, I just…I wanted you to know the whole story, I guess…" Harry muttered the last part, knowing how shamefully weak an excuse that was. He'd been trying to get Hermione to calm down with subtle nudging, and it had backfired. Why was this so hard? But then Hermione looked up, and her eyes were so unhurt it shocked him.

Hermione took a shaky breath in. "Yeah, I suppose I wasn't thinking very clearly. But anyway, what did Blaise tell you about? I think I…might have… _bityourheadoffbeforeyoucouldreally_ …say…"

Now Harry was caught off guard. He supposed it was a good thing Hermione hadn't noticed his poor attempts to calm her down, but what exactly had she said? Something about biting his bread off?

It didn't matter. "He told me that he thought Professor Snape was trying to tell me something with those questions he asked in class yesterday. You remember, about the asphodel and…stuff?"

Hermione gave him a _look_ that reminded him who he was talking to and instantly shamed him. "So you think there was a hidden message in his question about the draught of living death? What kind of message?"

"Well Blaise thinks so, yeah. He mentioned this 'Language of Flowers' thing, but he also said that whatever he could figure out didn't hardly make any sense. He was kinda vague, and we didn't have long to talk."

"Wizards have a language of _flowers?"_ Hermione sounded incredulous.

"And why should that be so surprising, Granger?" The two of them jumped at the sound of Blaise's voice. The boy was casually leaning against a bookshelf behind Hermione. Neither had noticed him, engrossed in their conversation as they'd been. "And as it happens, from what I hear, it was never just a wizard thing, which is part of why it fell out of use. The other big problem was communicating complicated messages, because even simple messages can get…complicated."

"Blaise! I thought we wouldn't get another chance to talk for a long time after last night!" Harry exclaimed.

"Yeah, I didn't either, but I noticed that no one else was paying you much attention at all this point, and I have a perfectly valid reason to visit the library, just like any other student. It shouldn't be any trouble unless people specifically notice me spending loads of time in the same places as you."

"So what was this about a secret message though?" Hermione interrupted eagerly. Harry wasn't sure it was really to Blaise's credit that the reaction on his face was hardly noticeable, as it was a twitch of irritation.

Answering the question regardless, Blaise said, "Well, let's start with the language of flowers. Some centuries ago, it was fairly popular, as far as I can tell, and it assigned meanings to a lot of common flowers. Between two people who knew the language, a bouquet could become a secret message of sorts, instead of a simple nice gesture. Of course, as popularity increased, secrecy decreased, and eventually the language fell out of common memory. My mother, however, has…invested a great deal of time into the art of love, and so she is quite fluent in the language. I wouldn't really have pegged Professor Snape as a lover, but if what he said yesterday was a coincidence, I wouldn't be terribly surprised. I'm not sure exactly how the flowers asphodel and wormwood translate, but I think they have something to do with bitter regret and graves, in context." Blaise viewed the looks on Harry and Hermione's faces with amusement. "Yeah, it doesn't make much sense. But then I was thinking, and Professor Snape only asked Harry questions. Now trying to grill you makes a bit of sense from Snape, if the rumors about his school days are anything to go by, but the fact that it's Harry he was talking to adds meaning to the message. You see, asphodel is a type of lily, and that's what really caught my attention. The language of flowers is all about the subtle things that no one pays enough attention to, like flowers."

Harry was shocked. Could Professor Snape really have been sending a secret message to him? A message about…Lily and graves and regret? That didn't have very many interpretations.

"What about wolfsbane, aconite, and monkshood? Do they have any meanings in the language of flowers? And what about bezoars?" Hermione was on a completely different train of thought.

"Well, not that I can remember. That doesn't mean much, because I don't remember much. I am fairly certain that bezoars, stones found in the stomachs of goats, have nothing to do with the language of flowers though."

"Hmm…" Harry could tell that he didn't need to ask for Hermione's help on this one. She was intrigued.

"At any rate," Blaise said, picking a book off the shelf seemingly at random, "I'll see you and the mudblood around, Potter." His voice had grown suddenly cold, like Malfoy's or Nott's when they spoke to him, but Harry also caught a wink.

Chilling his voice as Blaise had, Harry replied, "Of course you will. We all go to the same school, and share at least two classes." Earlier that day, a notice had been posted in the common room about flying lessons, and who Slytherin would share then with.

Hermione was quite confused all of a sudden. "Wait…what's a mudblood? And why was he so rude about saying goodbye?"

Harry sighed. He'd figured the boy was going a bit far, from what he'd found about the term, but there was every possibility that he was actually just educating Hermione about what she should expect in the future. "He was reminding us subtly that we should act like that in public. He even winked at us, to show he didn't mean it."

"Oh. I suppose that makes sense," Hermione said, "But what about calling me 'the mudblood?' That sounds offensive and dehumanizing, even if mudblood is a kind term. Not that I think it is."

Harry sighed again. "It isn't. Mudblood is just about the worst insult in pureblood culture, as it refers to those so far beneath purebloods that 'their blood is practically the same as the mud they crawl in.' Muggleborns. I suspect Blaise might have been trying to pique your curiosity in a relatively safe environment so you know what the word means when it inevitably comes up later."

Hermione, who had been in the process of getting pumped up over ferreting out a secret message, now looked like a sailboat without wind, but fully prepared sails: droopy and unenthusiastic, in addition to quite sad. "They really…hate muggleborns that much?"

"Hermione, I've been in Slytherin for a week, and I can already tell that muggleborns are worth about as much as their favorite term for them implies. There's only one muggleborn in the whole house, and he's only made it by being quick enough to keep up with a house full of enemies, and earning their grudging respect. Even then, they still hate him for what he is. They only leave him alone because he taught them long ago how amusing he finds their attempts to interfere with his daily life by interfering back. Harshly." Harry hadn't really gotten to know Max very much better over the course of the week, but he had spent enough time in the common room to overhear an older student telling Nott about the prefect. Harry had been able to guess enough of the story from that, and what he knew of Max himself.

"Oh," Hermione said quietly. She seemed to be trying to make herself smaller than she really was.

"Hey, what did I tell you before Hermione? They aren't anything special, just self-righteous. And you've proven all their beliefs wrong in the span of a week, even if they won't pay you any mind. Don't let a bunch of jerks get you down." Hermione stopped trying to shrink.

"Now, we're in a library trying to find a language that isn't well known because it's out of use, but it used to be quite popular. It might also be mentioned in the Herbology section, or anywhere flowers are mentioned. What say you we get started, those are some pretty promising leads."

Hermione smiled weakly. "The game's afoot?" Harry looked at her blankly. "Okay, please tell me you've heard of Sherlock Holmes. Everyone's heard of him!"

"Oh…yeah. Some kind of genius guy?"

"Well, yes, but he always uses his smarts and incredible deduction to solve crimes. And whenever he realizes he's got a new case, he says, 'The game's afoot.'"

"I see," Harry said. "Not your best attempt at a joke, but I'll give points for effort."

"Oh, you…" Hermione chose to hit him playfully in the arm instead of finishing that sentence. Harry just smiled, used to that particular social gesture by now.

As the two began searching the library for books about the language of flowers, it quickly became apparent that the real problem would be finding a comprehensive compendium to base their research off of. Mentions were sprinkled all over of the specific meanings of flowers, but they often said different things about the same flower, and never seemed to explain why one flower could mean so many different things. Eventually, however, Hermione found what they were looking for.

 _"Flora's Guide to Flower Meanings?"_ Harry asked. It did sound promising, but had that actually been the author's name?

"Yep," said Hermione smugly, "this will tell us all we need to know about the language of flowers. I checked inside, and it's a comprehensive list of all the flowers known to wizardkind, with all of their possible meanings and interpretations. And there's even a note here," she opened the book a few pages, "saying that the book can update itself when new flowers are discovered or new meanings are added to existing ones. I also found this, which does help explain a lot about why this book exists." She held up a short paperback titled _The Life of Flora the Obsessed._ "She was obsessed with plants of all kinds, and was personally responsible for documenting nearly half of the currently known species. She was also apparently nearly as powerful as Morgana herself, and at least as creative, which explains how she managed such a broad and complicated charm on her book."

That did explain quite a bit. Still, "Where did you find these?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Oh, there's a really small section on the language of flowers, and this was the compendium that I saw referenced in a few of those books. And when I saw the author's name, I got curious. Apparently she was a lot of the reason that flora is called what it is even today though. She was born in the Roman empire, and named after her obsession with plants as a young girl. Then she did so much plant-related work that she gained nearly the whole civilized world's respect, and her reputation helped keep that particular Latin term alive."

Harry, who was interested despite himself, asked, "And what about that other one…flora and…that other similar sounding one?"

"Oh, that. Well she married a faun…and apparently calling them 'Flora and Fauna' stuck pretty hard, with how well it flows and how famous she was. The statue of secrecy mucked up a bunch of details when it came around, so muggles have completely forgotten all of this, but wizards still have records."

"Huh," said Harry, idly wondering what a faun was, "so what about the flowers we were looking for? What do they mean?"

"Oh, right. I figured we could look those up together. I thought…I thought you might like it a bit better that way."

"Hermione, it wouldn't be the first time you've beaten me to the punch on research. Why would this time be any different?"

"Well, because this time it's about a secret message to you…and because it probably has to do with your parents."

Well, she made a good point there, even if he hadn't considered it. Still, "Hermione, I don't mind you letting your curiosity get the better of you. It's okay for you to find things out about me; you're one of the few people in school who wouldn't do anything unkind with something like that."

Hermione looked at him in a way that Harry was completely unfamiliar with. It was rather unsettling. "Thanks, Harry. I…it means a lot to me that you trust me so much."

"Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" he replied. That got her to stop with that…expression. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it. It was almost like she was in awe of him for some reason that he couldn't fathom.

"Yeah. It's just nice to…well…"

"To…have friends?" Harry asked before she could run away from the issue like they always did, "I know it's been nice to find out what that's like…for myself…" This was the first time either had come out and said something about their previous, friendless lives. Harry was pretty sure a lack of friends was something they had shared though, if for quite different reasons.

Hermione looked at Harry, her silence telling the whole story. As the silence dragged on too long, all Harry could do was hope that he'd broken the ice, and they could talk about their lives more freely now.

"Anyway…the flowers?" Harry asked once it was clear they weren't going anywhere with their other conversation.

"Oh, right. Well asphodel should be first, so let's start there."

And with that, the tension was gone and the two were research buddies once more.

"Here it is," Hermione said, beginning to read aloud, _"'Asphodel: Most commonly used to mean 'regret,' though in more complicated messages this flower can be taken to mean, 'my regrets follow you to the grave.' The flower's long history of association with death should not be forgotten when dealing with particularly difficult messages or messengers. It is also a type of lily, and as Lily can be a name, there are many varying messages that can be sent by this flower alone.'"_ Hermione looked up at Harry. "You know, it sounds like Blaise was right on with this one, for all his lack of confidence. 'My regrets follow you to the grave, Lily,' isn't such an unlikely interpretation if this really is a message. And even if that's not the exact message he wanted you to get, it's quite fascinating that he'd say such a thing."

Something occurred to Harry, "Yeah. Yeah it really is weird, because my mum was muggleborn! From what I've heard, Professor Snape is the model Slytherin as far as opinions on muggleborns go, even if he never openly uses that as a reason to make their lives miserable. He's too smart to be so openly discriminating."

"Yeah, I've heard pretty much the same in Gryffindor, although they don't usually call him a 'model' anything. He's…unpopular."

Harry smirked, "Yeah, I'll bet. Wonder if I could give the man a run for his money."

"Harry!"

He stopped smiling. "Yeah, that was a pretty awful joke. Still, it'd be fascinating to get an opinion of who's worse in the eyes of your house: me or him."

"Him. There's no contest. You're just a Slytherin, and a few people who managed to sneak a few brain cells past the Fat Lady have noticed that you're even a bit of an outcast, and certainly not the typical rude and entitled pureblood heir. Not that they say as much, they just don't seem quite as eager to hate you as they were right after you got sorted.

"Snape, on the other hand…well let's just say that people not in his immediate presence, or in earshot of one of the other professors rarely offer him the politeness to refer to him as 'Snape,' let alone 'Professor.'"

Harry let that all sink in. It was something, he supposed. Still, "Snuck a few brain cells past the Fat Lady?"

Hermione turned ever so slightly red. "Well, let's just say that the typical image of a brave but stupid Gryffindor is typical for a reason. They don't seem to be terrible people, on the whole, but the only reason I can tell is I have a lot of experience looking at people who are being particularly nasty to me."

"And who's the Fat Lady?"

Hermione frowned, "How did we even end up talking about this?"

"You mentioned that people had to sneak brain cells past her. Why are you avoiding the question?"

Hermione stared at Harry, shock dominant among her features. "Well, I suppose that Slytherin was more right for you than you realized."

Harry wasn't sure whether or not to be offended. "Oh?"

"Well just look at you. I dropped a brief mention of the Fat Lady, and then covered for it pretty well, and you still caught on to the fact that I was hiding something. I'm pretty sure that falls under Slytherin cunning."

Harry thought about that. She had a point. "But you still haven't answered the question."

Hermione thought about that for a minute. "Well, it's not like I was ever specifically told not to tell you where our common room was, but it's decently hidden. I kind of assumed it was at least sort of secret."

"Oh…yeah that makes sense. Slytherin's common room is pretty well hidden too. And well fortified, come to think of it."

"Yeah. I doubt you'd do anything horrible with the knowledge, and you still wouldn't be able to actually get in, but I don't think I should tell you."

Harry let the point stand unchallenged. To be honest, he wasn't certain he'd readily share the location of his dorm with Hermione either, for all he trusted her. There just…wasn't any good reason to. They hung out in the library so much because it was neutral ground, and policed by one of the strictest people in the building. The dorms had neither of those advantages.

"Now, to get back on topic, we should look up Wormwood. That's a flower too, and it may change the message," Hermione said, turning the pages of the book. To Harry's surprise, when she stopped, she was nowhere near the end of the book. If wormwood wasn't at the end of the compendium, what was? _"'Wormwood: most commonly used to mean 'absence' this flower can also tell one not to be discouraged, or not to be discouraged by absence, when a more complicated speaker presents it. As is common, the shrub the flower grows upon takes many other meanings, though few of them are ever contextualized into the language of flowers.'"_

"Well," said Harry, "That adds a whole new layer onto the whole thing, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Well asphodel could have been a coincidence. You even knew right on the spot that it really was an ingredient in the potion Professor Snape was talking about. But two flowers referenced at the same time that can be put together for a message like that? That can't be a coincidence, can it?"

Hermione though about that. "Probably not. The Draught of Living Death is way too advanced for a first year to be expected to know about it. I think it was in the…N.E.W.T section or something like that, which sounded like the end of our education, not the beginning. But if Snape really wanted to send a message, he might not have had a choice. And it makes it a bit clearer that it was a message if there's something off about the question. He wasn't asking to test your academic knowledge; he was asking to tell you something—!"

"You really do just get going, don't you?"

Hermione blushed profusely. "Shut up. You got the point."

Harry chuckled, "Yeah, but I also asked a rhetorical question and you responded with all of the information you knew on the subject. Still, you're right. I think this confirms that Professor Snape really was sending me a secret message. I should probably do something nice for Blaise, I'd never have guessed otherwise. The Head can be more than a little bit intimidating."

Hermione thought for a few moments. "Well, I'm not sure what you could do. I mean, he's probably got enough gold to get anything he wants, and you can't exactly move social barriers to do something there that he might like. Come to think of it, that makes you wonder why he's even friendly to us."

Harry sighed yet again. "Yeah, I know. I certainly wouldn't call him a friend. But from what I know of the house, Blaise is a model Slytherin. And the only one open-minded enough to talk to me, in Slytherin at least. He probably sees an advantage somewhere, at the very least, but I don't really care. I can use all the help I can get surviving my housemates. And he does know how to curb his opinions, which is nice.

"But anyway, what should we do about this? If I'm understanding this right, Professor Snape was saying that he mourns Lily with me, and probably even wants to console me a bit. And he's also…well he's also Professor Snape. He supposedly hates muggleborns and Gryffindors, and wouldn't have any reason to mourn my mum."

Hermione was already flipping more pages. "Well, first we should decipher the rest of his message. After all, asphodel and wormwood weren't the only flowers he mentioned."

"Oh right, he asked about monkshood and wolfsbane! And then didn't he say something about another name?"

"Aconite. Yes. The real question," Hermione muttered as she madly flipped pages, "is where that particular flower would be in a compendium. It has more than just those three names, and…oh. Well, on the bright side, I found it."

Curious, Harry scooted around to where he could see the book. Then his jaw dropped.

There were so many names for just the one flower! It was under the heading The Bane and commanded a whole page to itself, because a picture accompanied the words. Skipping to the description, he read, _'Aconitum is the current most official name for this flower. As you can see, it is far from the only name. The meaning is almost as complicated. There are two primary meanings for the flower, chivalry (or knighthood) and misanthropy. The combination of the two meanings is all too common when this flower is used. At times it is intended to mean only one or the other. This is rare, however, as the most common interpretation of the flower is the misanthropic knight, or sometimes the spurned but well meaning hero. The latter is quite a liberal interpretation, however, and should be treated with caution.'_

"What does…

"Misanthropy mean? It usually just means antisocial or something like that, but the Latin roots more accurately mean the intense dislike or…hatred…of people."

"Yeah…that," Harry said, "That is what I was going to ask. I swear, I'm never defending you from anyone calling you a know-it-all. You kind of earn that one for yourself.

"But at any rate," Harry pushed on, overriding Hermione's objections, "I think this still makes sense. Professor Snape is definitely antisocial, and that's putting it politely. But here it says that monkshood, or whatever you want to call it, means a…misanthropic knight. So Professor Snape was probably trying to say something about himself again, except this time it's more complicated than just 'I mourn your mum too.'"

Probably still smarting from the know-it-all comment, Hermione said, "Yes, how astute. I find myself in awe of how much your _know_ ledge encompasses _all."_

Harry turned in his seat and looked at Hermione. "Really? I mean seriously? _You_ know far more than I do, and even then I don't think you'd say you know everything. I was just trying to say that you get a bit…intense sometimes, you know?"

Hermione looked like she wanted to say something about that. Instead, she said, "Right. So, anyway, apparently Snape was saying something like, 'My regrets follow you to Lily's grave, and you shouldn't be too down about her absence. Don't get poisoned. I'm misanthropic, but also chivalrous.' Or maybe he meant heroic…it's hard to say."

"Wait, don't get poisoned? Where'd that come from?"

"He asked three questions, remember? It makes sense that each one would mean something if the first and third questions both had such clear meaning. And what was his second question about?"

Harry thought back. "Bezoars."

"Yes. And you got the question right, but do you remember what he said after he was done asking you questions? He told you about the Draught of Living Death, which could very well have been an attempt to hint at his underlying message. And he told you that bezoars are cures for most poisons, a detail you forgot to mention. Then I think he said something about aconite. Overall, I think that his message was pretty carefully thought out and well crafted, and asking a completely meaningless question in the middle of it just doesn't make sense. Not when is seems like everything else he said had layers upon layers of meaning. A bezoar might not be a flower, or related to a flower, but a message about its ability to fight poisons could easily have been intended."

"I don't know Hermione, that might be pushing it. I mean, I'm pretty sure there was a message being sent here, but why would he be telling me something as vague as 'Don't get poisoned, use a bezoar,' in the middle of another message that has nothing to do with poison?"

Hermione wasn't giving up, "Harry, do you know what the second most prevalent fear about you is in Gryffindor right now, after the idea that you'll become a Dark Lord? It's the fear that you'll get poisoned or corrupted somehow just by being in Slytherin. People are so afraid of that influence that they stopped getting too close to me _physically_ after they saw us together. I think Snape could be warning you about something similar."

Harry thought about that very skeptically for a bit. "Professor Snape, Head of Slytherin House, is warning me not to get poisoned by it? That doesn't make sense, Hermione."

"Harry, it doesn't make sense that he'd mourn your mother, either, and I'm having a hard time picturing him as some kind of knight or hero either. But what else could he have been saying?"

Harry didn't have an answer for that.

* * *

Before Harry could perhaps clear up his uncertainties about Professor Snape, however, he had to make it through flying lessons with the Gryffindors. Harry was looking forward to learning how to fly, but as the lessons drew nearer, he grew more and more nervous. He'd figured once he was sorted into the same house as Malfoy he'd have to learn in front of the pompous jerk, but the thought of also being surrounded by Gryffindors instead of the more neutral Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs was quite daunting. And his only solace, that he'd have his one real friend at his side, was rather tempered by the fact that that one friend was Hermione. She was at least twice as nervous as Harry, her mood was contagious, and unlike potions class, Harry didn't know where to start calming her (or even himself) down.

As they walked to the flying class, Harry and Hermione were both quite nervous. They'd both been listening to all of the children with any experience on a broom brag for most of a week. Longer, in some cases. Hermione wasn't helping much by muttering various tips and tricks she'd garnered from devouring a book on Quidditch. Harry had witnessed that particular incident, and now had a new respect for Hermione's skills. It had taken her nearly three hours to memorize every last detail in the book, something she had proven by regurgitating all the facts at Harry over the course of the next four hours. And that had been Sunday. At this point, Harry was actually starting to be able to pick out familiar phrases, having heard them nervously spouted out several times over the course of the week.

"…and you shouldn't grip it too tightly, or your grip won't be flexible enough, but if you hold it too loosely—"

"You'll fall off. Hermione, that's not helping. I don't think it really matters how technically you know every little detail here."

"But it can't hurt, can it?" Hermione's voice was colored with a touch of panic, "I mean, the more we know, the better we'll be able to judge exactly what we need to do and when we need to do it and if we don't know it all we might accidentally fall off while we're flying around and—"

"Hermione! Do you really think that wizards, with magic, don't have something for that? And do you really think they'll let us do anything dangerous in our first class? Just follow the teacher's instructions and you should be fine!" Harry felt much better after saying that, for some reason.

"But don't you see? If I don't know why I'm doing all of these things, I'm going to mess up horribly when it matters and fall off, and if I do that at the wrong time I could seriously hurt myself!"

Harry looked pointedly at Hermione, "How do you control your height on a broom?"

"You point the nose of the broom up or down and go that direction. Be careful how you move your body as you maneuver the broom with your arms, because that's how you control your speed, and doing both at the same time is difficult. You should also be careful not to sit completely upright unless you aren't in a hurry, as this will cause the broom to drift upward slowly." This wasn't even the fifth time Harry had heard that exact explanation. He shook his head, looking away from Hermione.

"And yet, you think that you'll have to worry about getting too high. I mean, you know exactly how to control your height, but you're still worried for some reason!"

"Well…yeah, but that doesn't mean I'll actually be able to pull it off. The book even said it's difficult!"

"So fix your arms in place and focus on moving around near the ground. We shouldn't be doing anything too much more difficult in our first lesson anyway."

Hermione fixed Harry with a very nervous look. "Fine. But if I fall off, I'm blaming you!"

"Hey, wait a second, that's not fair!"

But Hermione had begun to walk incredibly quickly, now apparently eager to get to class, and was playing deaf. Harry shook in amusement his head and followed her.

This would be an interesting class.

* * *

 **A/N:** **So I am honored to have my story in two different communities already and I thank those responsible. I find it highly amusing, however, that both of those communities are Hermione Granger-related communities.**

 **I remain amused even though HP and the SoS is in other communities now.**

 **And on an unrelated note, massive credit to White Squirrel for introducing me personally to the idea of the language of flowers in Harry Potter and the person who first put together that Snape was using the language of flowers (I don't think finding out who the real original discoverer was is possible anymore, I did try) for inspiring this chapter's main thrust. And yes, if all y'all knowledgeable peoples want to correct any mistakes I made in interpreting the language of flowers, I won't complain. I took a fair amount of liberty in this chapter, but I'll stand by it. I'd feel bad if I didn't include this particular plot thread, especially with Harry being in Slytherin.**

 **This is a smooth segue ride. Shut up.**

 **Um, holy shit. Pardon my French, but I'm just back from a periodic check of my story stats, and I've found that my latest chapter went from a few hundred views for the day and perhaps half as many viewers to OVER 1,000 VIEWS. In a few hours. WHAT JUST HAPPENED.**

 **Okay, so I actually have a pretty good idea. The only other significant change is that Harry Potter and the Significance of Subtleties was added to the** **Right turn** **community. So my theory is that a few of the 16,000 or so current followers of that community decided to check my story out. And thank you to all of those people. I have put out three chapters of this story so far, and while I had these plans in the back of my head to go all the way with this story, because I've fallen in love with it, I wasn't expecting to get this kind of attention, at least not until it had slowly built up.**

 **More importantly however, thank you to whoever was responsible to adding my story to the** **Right turn** **community, (I don't actually know how communities work, so I'm keeping the thanks general. That doesn't make them less heartfelt.) because I suspect you are single-handedly responsible for a massive boom in popularity that I really wasn't expecting. I have no words. All I can do is thank you from the bottom of my heart.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Damn right I'm feeling the pressure now. No pressure no diamonds though, right?**

 **And on the final note (I promise) if you enjoy this story for the unexpected direction it took, check the** **Right turn** **community out. That's apparently the only requirement for entry: be a story that goes in an unexpected direction. Or takes a** _ **right turn,**_ **they might say. XD**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Warning: you will read words.**

* * *

Harry's good humor lasted all the way out of the castle to the lawn opposite the forbidden forest that was the site of their class. While Hermione seemed to be the first Gryffindor to arrive, the entirety of the Slytherin class was already there, and all stopped their conversation to stare ominously at Harry and Hermione. Harry saw Hermione stiffen with nervousness, but she seemed to carry quite a bit of the spirit of her house, and boldly demanded, "What are you all looking at?"

The lack of response was eerie. Knowing the Slytherins as he did, Harry figured it was a calculated and coordinated move to unbalance them. Nudging Hermione as she paused, he said, "Don't let them get to you. It's creepy when they do that, but it's also harmless. Trust me." Recovering from her brief halt, Hermione followed him over to the brooms, which were in neat lines on the ground. Looking them over, they didn't seem to be in very good condition at all. Twigs stuck out in many places and some of the handles were bent ever so slightly. None of them looked remotely new. Choosing one that looked slightly less worn than the rest to stand near when they inevitably had to pick one up to fly with, Harry waited for the Gryffindors to show up.

When the rest of Hermione's house did show up, they were followed by their teacher, Madam Hooch.

"What are you all waiting for?" she barked, "Everyone stand next by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up!"

Harry took a few steps to situate himself next to the broom he'd chosen. Hermione stood next to the broom on his left. To Harry's surprise, Neville ended up on his right. Harry was having a hard time getting a read on the perpetually nervous boy.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'UP!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom shot up into his hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione's simply rolled around on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, like horses, could tell when you were afraid, thought Harry; there was a quaver in Neville's voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet firmly on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Harry very nearly laughed out loud when she told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years. Hermione not held back by house rules, didn't hold back her own laugh. Malfoy had made it clear to her how superior he thought he was, and this was just one more way that he really wasn't.

"Now when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—"

But Neville, nervous and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle—twelve feet—twenty feet. Harry saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, begin to slip sideways off the broom and—

Harry, realizing that Neville was about to fall, acted instinctively to move out of the way, but found himself instead kicking off as he'd been planning to do before. Then, before he had realized what was happening, he was pointing his broom straight at Neville; time seeming to slow as Harry sped upwards and Neville sped down. Then, in a split second, Harry threw himself just far enough to one side to avoid a collision and leveled his broom before throwing himself the other way and somehow catching both of Neville's flailing arms, abruptly halting the boy's descent as Harry caught his momentum with the backs of his knees against the broom. Wait, how had his other knee gotten hooked over his broom? For that matter, what on earth had just happened?

Harry was distracted from these musings by a shout from below. "Potter! Longbottom! What do you think you're doing?"

Harry was a bit too stunned to answer. He saw Neville, whose eyes had been tightly shut, open his eyes and look up in shock. "Thanks," the boy managed weakly, still very pale.

"Yeah," Harry replied shakily.

Madam Hooch then arrived on her own broom, which she maneuvered underneath Neville. "Okay now, I've got you. Let go on three." She placed a guiding hand on each of Neville's legs. Neville shot a panicky look at Harry, who was doing all of the holding, as he'd grabbed the backs of Neville's arms.

Harry wasn't sure quite how he managed it, but he found that he was suddenly drifting down until Neville was resting on Madam Hooch's broom. The woman looked at Harry, clearly shocked. "That works as well, I suppose. Impressive control, young man."

"Erm, thanks," Harry said, letting go of Neville's arms, which instantly shot to the handle of the broom.

"Relax, Mr. Longbottom," Madam Hooch said, "If you stiffen up you end up where you were earlier, sitting upright and drifting upwards without control." She then awkwardly reached around him, guiding the broom back to the ground.

Harry reached up and grabbed onto his broom handle, dropping one leg off and pulling himself back into a sitting position. Suddenly remembering Madam Hooch's earlier instruction, Harry leaned slightly forward and drifted back down to the ground.

"Right," Madam Hooch said as Harry touched down, "now that was a perfect example of what not to do. As I was telling Mr. Longbottom, it doesn't pay to stiffen up so much that you can't move and simply drift upwards. If it hadn't been for some remarkably quick thinking on Mr. Potter's part, he could have broken something with that fall. Now, _on my whistle this time,_ everybody kick off, hard, keep your brooms steady and rise a few feet, before leaning slightly forward to come back down."

Class proceeded far more sedately after that, Madam Hooch guiding them through a series of the basics of broom handling. Harry found it all coming quite naturally to him, and was actually bored by the end of the lesson. Hermione didn't seem to be struggling as much as she'd worried she would, though he noticed her send a few annoyed glances his way when she was having trouble with something he was finding incredibly easy. Neville kept shooting shocked looks his way, though he wasn't alone in that. Everyone seemed shocked at his display, and he agreed with their sentiment. Where had he picked _that_ up? Certainly not at the Dursley's.

After the lesson ended, everyone headed back to the castle. Harry found himself walking between Hermione and Neville. Hermione wasn't letting either of them get a word in edgewise as she showered Harry with questions.

"Where did you learn that? Have you ever been on a broom before? Why didn't you tell me you knew how to fly a broom? Do you think you could give me a few pointers? Do you think you could teach me that catch you used? It looked pretty cool, although I'm not sure I'd want to try it myself. How did you—"

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. Hermione stopped midsentence, bowing her head slightly in shame.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"It's okay, Hermione, you just need to pause for breath, especially when you're asking so many questions. Now, to answer your questions, I haven't ridden a broom before and I don't know where I picked that up any more than you do. I could probably give you a few pointers, but it honestly comes so easily to me that I'm not always sure exactly what I'm doing right. You're probably better off listening to Madam Hooch."

"You really…haven't flown before?" Neville asked. Harry looked at him in surprise. Since the sorting Neville had seemed a bit distant, and hadn't spoken a word to Harry.

"Well, no. Today was my first time. I grew up with muggles, remember? When would I have gotten my hands on a broom?"

"Oh right. I guess you're just some kind of natural then. I mean…that move you pulled off is pretty advanced."

Harry scratched his head awkwardly. "Yeah…thanks. I don't think I'd have been able to pull it off if I hadn't been right underneath you though."

"No, thank you. Madam Hooch was right. I probably would have broken something without your help." Neville paused, considering something for a second. "And I don't care what everyone's saying about you, you're a decent guy. You helped me find Trevor on the train and you caught me when I fell off my broom. Ron Weasley may try to make me regret it, but I'll help you out anytime you need it. You know…if you think I'll be of any use…"

"Wow…thanks Neville. And don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're plenty useful. If nothing else, you do certainly know a whole lot more about the wizarding world than Hermione and I combined."

Neville's face took on a thoughtful look. "I hadn't thought about it that way before."

"And maybe we can help you out with your troubles in class, too," Hermione chimed in, "we've been working on getting Harry up to speed, but I'm sure I could help you out too."

Harry chuckled, "Of course, what you need to keep in mind is that Hermione's version of 'up to speed' is about a year ahead of the coursework-ow!" Hermione had once again hit him.

"At any rate," Hermione said, "I think that you could probably give us both pointers in Herbology." Harry looked at Hermione in shock. He'd gotten the impression that she was just the best at everything, aside from flying, because that was athletic. Neville was giving Hermione a similar look, to which Hermione replied, "Look, Neville, I've been watching you in class and you have yet to mess up even once in Herbology. I'd be willing to bet you know the answers to all the questions Professor Sprout asks, too, you're just too timid to answer." Neville got a panicky look on his face for some reason.

Harry, however, couldn't let this opportunity pass. "What's this? Hermione is admitting that she's not the best at everything?" She hit him again. "Ow!"

"I never said I was the best at everything, Harry! I actually rather doubt I'm nearly the best at anything, I'm only a first year!"

"Oh come on, Hermione, you know what I meant. You must be the smartest first year ever. And I can tell you realize it, even if you don't say it. So is Neville really that good in Herbology?"

Hermione looked at Neville, who muttered something that Harry didn't catch. "I'd bet he has his own greenhouse at home. I swear he knows how to treat the plants better than even Professor Sprout sometimes. He's…well he's a bit like you are on a broom, actually."

Harry looked at Neville appraisingly. "What's wrong with being so good at something?" he asked, because Neville currently looked quite green.

Neville hesitated for several seconds, before he said, "Well…it's like Hermione said. I have a greenhouse at home. It's almost cheating. And my _grandoesn't…"_ Harry didn't catch the end of the sentence.

"Your gran what?" Hermione asked.

"She…she doesn't like it. She says that I should be more like my dad, and he wasn't into plants so much."

"Well that's ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed, "You aren't your dad, and you shouldn't be trying to be him! And you have a real talent for Herbology; you shouldn't waste that."

Neville just clammed up at that. Hermione pestered him all the way to the library, where she gave up in favor of studying. Neville was pretty helpful with Harry's Herbology homework, a two foot essay on the seven horticultural properties of Freezing Fungus. Hermione, having had Herbology the day before, was already done with her assignment, and with Neville there to help Harry when he had trouble, Hermione began to do her own thing. When he finished the essay, the three of them headed off to lunch.

"So, Harry, I've been thinking," Hermione began as they walked.

"Hermione, you're always doing that. What makes this time special?"

"About Snape," she continued.

"Oh." Harry had been avoiding thinking about Snape for nearly a week now. He just couldn't work out what to think about the message that the man had apparently sent him. Most of it made sense, aside from the bit with the wolfsbane and monkshood. Had that just been a question about potions after all? And perhaps the most puzzling question of all: why not just tell Harry openly? Why was Snape going to the lengths of constructing a secret message just to offer condolences?

"Harry, I think you need to at least offer a response to him. If he really was offering condolences for your mother, just saying nothing would be pretty insulting."

"And if he was just asking a really unfair question?"

"Well that's why you should use the language of flowers to respond. If he was sending you a message in the language of flowers, he should understand a response in the language of flowers. And if he wasn't, then you just asked a harmless question in potions class that he can't fault you for."

"Wait, what are you guys talking about?" Neville asked.

Harry and Hermione both started a bit, suddenly remembering that they weren't alone. They shared a quick glance, before Harry spoke up, "Well…we think that Professor Snape may have been sending a sort of message when he asked those questions in class. You see, there's this language of flowers, and two of his questions involved potion ingredients that are also, coincidentally, flowers. And as far as we can tell, he seems to have offered his condolences for Harry's mum's death."

Neville looked quite shocked about that. "Y-you mean that…Snape, the death eater, offered his condolences for _Lily Potter?"_

Harry and Hermione both looked at Neville, confused. "Wait, Snape's a what now?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, right, you two don't know. Death eaters…well, they were you-know-who's followers. And, well, my gran thinks that Dumbledore's insane, letting one teach in a school, they were the worst of the worst, but apparently Dumbledore personally vouched for Snape."

Hermione looked stricken. "You mean that some of…you-know-who's followers aren't in prison?"

"Yeah," Neville said glumly, "it's not really a secret that a bunch of them are still out there. Most of them claimed they'd been controlled magically, and got let off. I don't really know the details, but apparently one of the exceptions was Snape."

Harry let that sink in. This made even less sense now. His mother had been fighting Voldemort, and Snape had apparently been fighting against her. What reason would he have to mourn her? And why had Dumbledore vouched for him?

And then it hit him. It all made sense. When Snape had asked about monkshood and wolfsbane, he'd been talking about himself, explaining why he mourned Lily! Snape was the chivalrous knight, and he'd secretly been friends with Lily, and probably a spy in the war! That would explain why Dumbledore would vouch for him, too. Dumbledore had probably been the one Snape reported to. But he was also misanthropic; he didn't like people…what did that mean? Well, it did certainly make sense. Snape didn't like much of anyone, save possibly Malfoy.

"…Harry? HARRY!" Harry snapped back to the present. "Harry, you zoned out for a minute there. What happened?"

"I figured it out!" He exclaimed, "I figured out the wolfsbane bit! He was telling me that despite his reputation as a death eater, he's a chivalrous, but misanthropic, knight. He was probably a spy! And friends with my mum, too!"

Hermione and Neville looked at him with shocked expressions. "So… you're saying that Dumbledore vouched for him because he was a spy?" Neville asked.

Harry nodded, "Yep. And he's probably still a spy, too, because Voldemort's not really gone!" Neville flinched violently. "Oh, right…sorry Neville." He'd forgotten that people didn't like hearing Voldemort's name out loud in his excitement.

"Wait, you-know-who isn't really gone?" Hermione asked. "I thought you defeated him as a baby!"

"Well I did, but from what Hagrid said, it doesn't sound like I really beat him for good. And Hagrid works for Dumbledore, just like Snape, so it's probably Dumbledore who's behind that particular opinion. Snape's probably under orders to act like a model death eater right now, so that no one suspects him as a spy. And that's why he didn't just tell me he knew my parents like everyone else, it all fits!"

There was a pause where both Hermione and Neville's eyes fogged in though.

"You know," Neville began hesitantly, "that would fit the facts. I don't know very many of the details, but it makes sense. Dumbledore may act odd sometimes, but he's no fool, and he definitely had a reason for hiring a death eater."

"And this definitely means that you have to respond to Snape's message somehow!" Hermione exclaimed, "You can't just let him think you're an ignorant dunderhead who didn't get it, like he probably already does. He told you that he mourns for your mother, you should at least offer thanks for that!"

"Well, yes, but how should I do that?" Harry asked.

"Well the thanks should be pretty easy, I found a few flowers that seem to mean one form of thanks or another. Agrimony would work; it usually means thankfulness or gratitude. And I think that both sentiments are appropriate here. And we should probably say something about his other message too. Maybe there's a way to say 'I understand' or something…" Hermione trailed off and pulled out _Flora's Guide to Flower Meanings,_ apparently looking up ways to say 'I understand.'

Then Harry realized, "You already looked up a way to say 'thanks,' didn't you?"

Hermione looked up distractedly, "What? Oh, yes. I knew that we'd probably want to at least communicate our thanks, even if we couldn't work out what else he was trying to say."

Harry just shook his head. Hermione was always a step ahead, it seemed.

"So, do you think that magical plants have meanings too?" Neville asked.

Harry considered for a moment, "Well, they might, we could check. This wasn't just a wizarding language though, so it might just be mundane flowers."

"Oh,"

When the three of them arrived at the Great Hall, Neville pulled Harry aside. Hermione either didn't notice or didn't care, and proceeded straight into the hall.

"Look Harry…thanks for earlier. I don't know how you pulled that move off, but that was amazing. And you saved me, too."

Harry was a bit shocked at the boy's sudden expression of gratitude. "Hey, it's no biggie. I mean, it was that or have you fall on me and hurt us both. And besides, aren't friends supposed to catch you when you fall?"

Neville perked up at that. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess it is. But still, thanks for catching me. I'd probably have seriously hurt myself otherwise."

"Anytime."

The two headed into the Great Hall, separating at the entrance to sit at their house tables. Harry noted that Neville sat next to Hermione, and felt a small tinge of gratitude. Hermione may have felt guilty about making his own house hate him, but that didn't stop him from feeling the exact same way about her. After all, it was essentially the same situation, just in reverse. All of the Slytherins hated Hermione because of what she was, and the Gryffindors hated Harry because of what _he_ was. Letting out a sigh of frustration, Harry set into his roast potatoes, wondering if he'd ever have a friend within his own house. Well, one who actually talked to him in public.

No, that wasn't terribly likely. Even the new students next year would probably be raised to recognize that he was socially untouchable.

* * *

As Harry, Hermione and Neville walked to potions the next day, Hermione filled them in on what she'd found out.

"I couldn't find a way to say 'I understand.' The language of flowers is mostly for conveying romantic messages, so it's not very good for a complimented sentiment other than some form of love or rejection. But I did find one thing that might work."

"Well?" Harry coaxed.

"Passion Flower," Hermione said. "It means belief, in a broad sense. Snape essentially said that he was a chivalrous bad guy, which doesn't make much sense, but we could try to say we believe him anyway." Harry's face must have said what he was thinking, because Hermione immediately went on the defensive. "Look, it's the best I could come up with. I couldn't find any way to communicate understanding, or anything related to spies. The best I could come up with was 'Thanks, I believe you.' It may not say everything, but part of the language of flowers is intuiting a message out of the things that are and aren't said, if the book's anything to go by. It's our best shot."

"Okay," Harry replied, "but how do we work that into class discussion? There wasn't much last time, aside from Professor Snape asking me those questions."

"Oh, I've been thinking about that too. I looked the flowers up in our book, and it turns out that they're both ingredients in the Swelling Solution, which is a fairly low-level potion. You could phrase the question like you were reading about it and you couldn't quite figure out why the two were used or something. After all, agrimony makes sense, it's used in all kinds of enhancement potions, but passion flower is usually used for cures and stuff, so it doesn't make very much sense."

Harry considered that as they proceeded to the dungeons. Just as they were about to begin class, he raised his hand. Snape looked at him with that unfathomable expression. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"Sir, I was reading ahead a bit, and I was confused about the Swelling Solution. I understand why agrimony and most of the ingredients are used, but I couldn't figure out why the recipe called for passion flower. Isn't that usually used in cures, not enhancement potions?"

Snape paused for several moments. "Indeed it is, Mr. Potter." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. They'd been right! "However," Snape continued, "in this case passion flower is used to temper the effects of the potion, and reduce the inherent toxicity. This is something you would have noticed had you been paying attention to the fact that so many toxins are used in the recipe. Now, unless someone else has a foolish question, we shall begin brewing. Today, we will be working on Briar's Brew, a more difficult potion than last week. The directions are on the board," he waved his wand, revealing several lines of instruction on the board, "and the necessary ingredients are in the supply cupboard." With another wave, the cupboard was unlocked and the doors flung open. "Begin. Oh, and do be careful with the pineapple, it tends to be quite temperamental." Was it Harry's imagination or did Snape look right at Harry as he said that?

From there, class proceeded essentially as it had the previous time. As he and Hermione worked, Harry thought about what Snape had said. He'd been pretty rude, all things considered. Was that an act, like Harry had suspected? It would make sense, he supposed, that the model death eater wouldn't be kind to his master's defeater. Still, Harry was pretty sure that Snape had gotten the message. But what had he meant about the pineapples? They were an ingredient in Briar's Brew, but Harry hadn't seen Snape offer any advice about ingredients in their last class. He generally stuck to insulting anyone not in Slytherin who made even the slightest mistake. So why had he offered that one piece of advice? Was it another message? Did pineapples even have flowers?

After class, as Harry, Hermione and Neville walked to the Great Hall for lunch, Harry asked Hermione whether she'd seen anything in the flower book about pineapples. She looked at him oddly, but Neville interjected, "Well, it's a plant, and nearly every plant has flowers. It could be in there. I'm more confused about why Snape treated you so poorly. I mean, if he knew your mother, and wasn't really a loyal death eater, why isn't he nicer?" Hermione pulled out the flower guide again as Harry answered.

"Well it's like I was saying yesterday, isn't it? Vol—I mean you-know-who isn't gone. Professor Snape has to act like he's still a loyal follower who's managed to work his way into Dumbledore's good graces, in case Volde—you-know-who. He can't afford to be too nice to me, because I'm the one who took Vol—er—you-know-who down. He might be able to get away with a little bit nicer treatment than he gives the Gryffindors, because I'm in Slytherin, but he still can't be outright nice." Neville nodded thoughtfully.

"Here it is!" Hermione burst out, "Pineapple means 'you are welcome.' I think that confirms that Snape was definitely communicating with us. That's three separate messages he's sent us, and they all make sense in context. If he really is a spy, he can't talk openly about his better qualities or his friendship with a muggleborn, and he said 'you're welcome' when you said 'thanks.' It all fits."

"Yeah," Harry said, "I guess this type of stuff is just how Slytherin operates. I mean, Blaise won't be nice to me in public either, but he's a sort of ally as well."

"Well, that might just be because you're you, Harry," Hermione said, "being the boy who lived and friends with a muggleborn makes you pretty unpopular in your house. I bet Malfoy actually talks to his friends in public."

"Well, he talks to Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott, if that's what you mean. I guess they might be friends. I don't really spend time around them if I can help it."

"Wait, Blaise? As in Blaise Zabini? He's an ally?" Neville asked.

"Oh…well yeah," Harry said, "I don't think I'd really call him a friend, but he's certainly nicer than the rest of the guys in my year. He even taught us alarm charms. Why, do you know him?"

"I don't know him personally, but I have heard rumors about his mother. They say she's killed a bunch of husbands over the years, taking piles and piles of money that they left her."

Harry recoiled in shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'd be careful around Blaise if I were you. He may not be out to kill you, but he probably sees something in it for him. The Zabinis were neutral in the war, so it wouldn't be revenge, but I wouldn't trust him to just be friendly, either."

"I-I'll keep that in mind," Harry stammered. He'd known something was off about Blaise. The boy was too stiff, too formal, even if he was nice. But there was still a big question.

What was Blaise after?

* * *

The next day, at breakfast, Hedwig visited with another letter. Slipping her a bit of bacon, Harry left the Great Hall and opened the letter.

 _Mr. Potter,_

 _You will report to my office this morning at 10:00 sharp. Do not be late._

 _Severus Snape_

What was that about? Harry thought the two had exchanged all the information they needed to in class. Was this about something else? Harry tried to come up with something else that his head of house might want to talk to him about. Somehow he doubted that Snape was going to interfere in his dorm problems.

At ten to ten, Harry left the library, where he'd been studying with Hermione and Neville. Neither of them could think of any reason for Snape to contact him either, and both of them had looked quite worried when he'd shown them the note. Still, he couldn't very well ignore the summons, so he found himself standing outside of Professor Snape's office, nervously straightening his robes.

He knocked three times on the door. It opened without a sound. The room inside was shadowy, and lined with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which slimy bits of plant and animal were suspended in variously colored potions. In the corner was a store cupboard, presumably for Snape's personal use, apart from the student supply cupboard. Harry's attention was drawn to the desk, where the man himself sat, hands folded, staring at Harry as though he were a particularly uninteresting insect that had walked in.

Harry swallowed quietly and closed the door behind him.

"I have been speaking with Madam Hooch," Snape began, "and she told me something quite interesting about your class. Apparently you can handle your broom with quite prodigious skill and talent, and even managed to prevent Mr. Longbottom from seriously injuring himself. Is this true?"

Harry, not really sure how to respond to that, nodded nervously.

"Now, as you may be aware, first years are not normally allowed to play on the quidditch team. However, in light of your skills, I may be prepared to make an exception. Marcus, what do you think?" Snape addressed someone behind Harry. Turning, Harry saw that an older Slytherin boy was standing behind him, previously unnoticed. Harry swallowed again.

"Hard to say, Professor. He looks pretty scrawny, but if what you said is true, he can move pretty well on a broom. He could make a decent seeker, they usually have a small build anyway."

"Our current seeker is Higgs, correct?"

"Yeah, unless someone comes along who's better than him. But to be honest, I don't think Higgs could pull off a move like you're talking about."

Snape was quiet for a moment as he considered that. "When do you think we could try him out? And what broom would you have him use?"

Now the older boy was quiet, considering. "Higgs is on a Nimbus 1500, but those are starting to get outpaced. It might be better to see if we could get him a Nimbus 2000, those just came out and they're the best on the market right now. I'd want to test him out on a school broom to see what he can do first though, those are pretty expensive. I could do that now, I don't have much homework this weekend."

"Very well," Snape replied, "Take him out now. I will inquire about purchasing a Nimbus 2000. If he flies anything like his father did…well, I have high hopes. Don't let me down, Mr. Potter."

Harry started at the direct address. "I-I won't sir." And he wouldn't, right? Flying had been pretty natural to him; whatever this test was couldn't be too hard. Could it?

"Oh, and Marcus," Snape added, "Don't let anyone see you. No one has reason to suspect that Harry will be on the team yet. It's best if we keep it that way."

Marcus nodded. "Right Potter, follow me then," he said, "we're going out to the pitch."

Harry followed the thickset boy as they walked through the castle. Once outside, they headed directly to the Quidditch Pitch. Harry hadn't been inside the stadium yet. Hundreds of sears were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Harry of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high. When they reached the center of the pitch, Marcus waved his wand, and a box came flying from a small alcove under the stands.

"First things first, Potter. I don't think you're cut out for anything other than seeker, judging by your size, but it never hurts to check. Now, you know the rules of Quidditch, right?" Harry hesitantly shook his head. "You don't even—okay then, we'll start with the basics. This," he pulled a bright red ball the size of a muggle football, "is the quaffle. There are three chasers per team, and their job is to pass this back and fourth, avoiding the other team and any bludgers, to put this through those hoops." He pointed at the oversized bubble sticks.

"Bludgers?" Harry asked.

"I'm getting there. Now there's also a keeper, whose job it is to guard their team's hoops. Part of being a chaser is being able to get past the keeper, by any means necessary." Harry thought that sounded a bit dark for a sport, but Marcus had already continued. "Now we get to the bludgers. Those," he pointed to two smallish, jet black balls straining to escape from their straps, "are bludgers. They fly around trying to unseat as many players as they can. You've always got to be ready to dodge a bludger. And to add to the danger, there are two players on either team called beaters, whose job is hitting the bludgers toward the other team. If they're near you when you're in the line of fire, they might be able to help you, but you shouldn't count on it.

"And finally, we have the seeker. This is what you'll probably be doing. The seeker stays out of the game, looking for this little thing here," Marcus indicated the smallest ball, a golden sphere smaller than the palm of Harry's hand, "to catch it. If you catch it, the game's over and your team receives 150 points. Usually that means you win the game, but you still need to be careful. The house cup is cumulative, so all the points a team wins counts, and if we're going up against a team that's won a few other games, we might need you to play interference with their seeker until we have enough points. You got all that?"

Harry wracked his brain. "Three chasers who used the quaffle to score through the hoops. A keeper to stop the other team's chasers. Beaters to deal with the bludgers. And a seeker to catch the snitch. Did I miss anything?"

Marcus chuckled. "Nope. You're a natural. Now, catch this," he said, throwing the quaffle to Harry. Harry caught it in both hands. "Yeah, that figures. Most chasers need to be taught a one-hand catch anyway. Try to catch it with one hand this time, you won't be able to fly without at least one hand on your broom."

Harry tossed the quaffle back to Marcus, who caught it with one hand, stopping the ball's momentum before moving his hand underneath it to hold it. Then he threw the ball back at Harry. Harry tried to catch it like Marcus had, absorbing the momentum, but he dropped the ball.

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised. The natural born chaser is pretty rare. Now let's try seeker, like I was thinking. If that doesn't work, we can try you as a beater, but I doubt that would go very well. I'll go get a broom, stay here." While the comment about his beating talent stung, Harry was pretty sure he was right. He wasn't really sure he wanted to deal with those struggling black balls anyway, they looked vicious.

Marcus returned a minute later, holding two brooms. One of them looked like the brooms Harry had been using in his flying lesson, while the other looked noticeably nicer. Marcus held the crumby one out to Harry. "You'll be using this for now. It flies the straightest out of the school brooms, and if you're good enough for the team, that should be good enough for you. Do well enough to make the team and you'll get a better broom." Harry took the broom, nodding. Then Marcus took off. Eager to be flying again, Harry followed him. When they reached about a hundred feet up, Marcus stopped, turning to Harry. "Now, I hear you fly pretty good. That's all well and good, but if you're going to be a seeker, you need to be able to catch things smaller than your classmates." He took several golf balls out of his pockets. "Now catch these!" He threw five at once, nearly parallel to the ground.

Not waiting for a second, Harry shot off as fast as he could, starting with the lowest ball. The balls were flying in a rough pentagon, with the point down. He caught it without any problem, pocketing it as he shot off for the next closest ball. As they got closer to the ground, they also spread out. Changing his strategy after catching the next ball, Harry went for the furthest one, going slightly out of his way to catch another on the way. He pocketed these as quickly as he could before turning, going straight for the last ball. His turn had cost him time though, and he had to push his broom to catch the last ball as it drew closer and closer to the ground. Reaching the ball with feet to spare, Harry quickly pulled up, barely managing to get the broom straight again before it hit the ground. Slowly regaining control over the broom, Harry put the last two balls in his pocket before flying back up to where Marcus waited. The boy was wearing a decidedly vicious grin.

"Well, that wasn't anything special until that last ball, Potter. I'm not sure I can name anyone at Hogwarts who ever could have caught that, not even that irritating Weasley. Welcome to the team."

* * *

Initially, Harry had been elated to be on the team, until Marcus had explained that Harry's presence on the team was to be kept strictly secret until their first game in November. No one outside of Professor Snape and the Slytherin team was to know, so that there would be less chance for objections, and their first opponent, Gryffindor, would be preparing for the wrong seeker. Reluctantly realizing the value to the strategy, Harry contained his joy and tried to pretend that everything was normal. He even continued with flying lessons, to avoid awkward questions. Of course, Hermione and Neville did notice that he wasn't studying with them as much as he used to, with practices for several hours a week, but he couldn't very well tell two Gryffindors that he was trying to trick their Quidditch team, so he went with the cover story that some older students had offered him tutoring in the common room. Hermione and Neville accepted this without too much trouble, especially when Harry started bringing books that Marcus pointed him at to help with their studies.

The whole matter was driven even further from their minds, however, when they heard an incredible rumor.

"Harry! Harry! Wait up!" Hermione called in her eager voice. It was a usual Wednesday, and Harry was walking to lunch from Transfiguration when Hermione and Neville caught up to him. "Harry, you'll never guess what Fred and George found!"

Harry had heard of the twins since arriving at Hogwarts. They were apparently genius pranksters who, like most Gryffindors, had a particular dislike for Slytherins, and were almost feared in Slytherin for their insane pranks. Whatever they'd found, it probably wasn't good news for most of his house.

"Do I want to guess, Hermione? Those two have a reputation for causing Slytherins no end of trouble."

"Do they really?" she asked.

"Well, they might not in Gryffindor, but does it really surprise you? They're Weasleys, after all." The Weasleys were famous for their diametric opposition to Slytherin. Not a single one in the family of nine had been sorted outside of Gryffindor, and only one wasn't yet sorted.

"I suppose not," Hermione said, "but that's not important. They found a Cerberus!"

"Wait, a what?"

"It's a three-headed dog," Neville said, "They're notoriously vicious, and they make incredible guard dogs, apparently."

 _"And there's one in the third floor corridor!"_ Hermione added.

"Wait," Harry said, "That's why we shouldn't go there on pain of death?"

"Yeah," Neville said, "if you believe the Weasley twins anyway. They aren't always the most trustworthy blokes out there."

"What's something like that doing in a school, anyway?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Well that's the question, isn't it?" Hermione said, "But then, Dumbledore did say to stay away from the corridor unless we wished to die a painful death, and a Cerberus certainly fits the bill."

"So you're saying that Dumbledore hired a death eater, keeps a vicious three-headed dog in the castle, and he's probably the one who left me at the Dursleys?"

Neville and Hermione considered this, before nodding.

"Just what is that man up to?"

No one had an answer to that.

* * *

 **A/N: I warned you. You read them anyway. I hope you can live without regrets.**

 **;)**

 **Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing my story, it really helps me stay motivated. Sorry this chapter didn't get out quite so fast, but school is rude to us all, and pays little attention to our wishes to do other things. But in other news, the sky is blue and fire's hot.**

 **Oh, and keep your eyes peeled, there will be another chapter in…a few hours maybe. You never know.**

 **(It's been a few hours. The chapter is now posted to the website, it'll be maybe a half an hour (from approximately 8 pm Pacific Standard Time, 4 am GMT) until Chapter 6 is guaranteed to be up.)**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Two chapters in one day, how'd I manage that? Who knows?**

* * *

The next two months passed without any serious incidents. Harry occasionally found himself on the receiving end of some rather irritating pranks, but he could never pin anyone down for sure as the culprits. He knew exactly who was responsible: Malfoy, his two cronies, and Nott, but he couldn't prove anything. Since they never got more vicious than a poorly timed jelly-legs jinx, Harry just let it pass. He learned the hard way to check his bed when he got back to it at night, because on more than one occasion something had been done to make it significantly less comfortable. It wasn't so bad when they just soaked his mattress, because they'd learned a charm for drying things in Charms class, but once he found his sheets had been coated in itching powder. After that, he routinely cleaned his bed and checked it for spells before getting within 3 feet.

Blaise was helpful throughout, offering him help with problems that the boy knew how to solve. He was the one who taught Harry the all purpose cleaning and magic detection charms, _sourigify_ and _specialis revelio_. He also taught Harry a few hexes and jinxes that might help Harry if he ever got into a more open fight, but that did little good when he was being attacked at random from the anonymity of a crowd.

Harry passed on what he'd learned to Neville and Hermione, and Hermione took to it with her usual enthusiasm. Neville seemed reluctant to try out offensive spells, but Harry encouraged him to learn them anyway. It never hurt anyone to know how to defend themselves, and Harry was also hopeful that the knowledge of those spells might provide the timid boy with a little much needed courage.

As time went on, however, Harry started to worry more and more about Hermione. She had started the year enthusiastically, eager to learn all she could about magic. Hardly a free moment had been spent outside of the library. But as Halloween drew nearer, Hermione spent more and more time alone. According to Neville, she spent much of it up in her dorm room, away from her dorm mates who hung out more in the common room. Harry and Neville discussed what was going on with Hermione, but they couldn't figure out what was wrong. When they asked her, she just dodged the question, saying something about having a lot of work to do. Eventually they let the matter drop, deciding that they weren't going to figure it out on their own, and she wasn't sharing.

Regardless of whatever was going on with her, Hermione still spent time with them in the library, and helped them study for their homework. Neville introduced them to wizarding chess, where the pieces were all alive. None of them were much good, although Hermione could usually beat either one of them in a game, and the pieces quickly realized this. This led to trouble whenever they played against her, as the pieces always seemed to think they had a better idea what to do next, and never wanted to be sacrificed. Harry found that the games he played with Neville were usually easier, if only because the pieces weren't so afraid he'd lead them to defeat.

Aside from chess and studying, Harry also thought about quidditch a lot. As far as he knew, the only people to actually see him play were Marcus Flint, the team captain and lead chaser, the other two chasers whose names he could never remember, and the beaters, Cretaceous Caraway and William Boole. Marcus hadn't even let the keeper in on who their play sessions, because it wouldn't matter in a game whether the keeper knew what the seeker was doing. Even when he was practicing with the team, Marcus had some kind of enchanted hood he made Harry wear to hide his face. Harry just hoped he wouldn't be wearing it in the match; it limited his peripheral vision and made him need to turn to look for the snitch more than he liked. He shouldn't have to wear it though, he figured, because the rest of the school would know how he flew anyway, and hiding his face wouldn't do much good at that point.

He just hoped that Hermione and Neville would forgive him for not telling them. He was still in flying lessons with them, and he found it harder and harder to keep the secret. He didn't like keeping his only friends in the dark, and the quidditch practices made flying class even more redundant and unbearable. He kept on it though, because Marcus had hinted darkly that Professor Snape might deal personally with a leak of private Slytherin information. Harry was certain that Snape wasn't quite as bad as he pretended to be, but he was also sure that the man wouldn't break character just to save one student, no matter how much he'd liked their mother.

Potions class had calmed down a bit though. Snape was still pretty horrible to the Gryffindors, but he avoided anything other than the occasional snide correction when Harry worked with Hermione or Neville. With this in mind, Harry had taken to working with Neville, because Hermione could usually fend for herself. Unfortunately, this only widened the gap that seemed to be opening between the two boys and Hermione. Harry resolved to confront her about it on Halloween, when she'd hopefully be a bit more relaxed and willing to talk about it.

With this goal in mind, Harry woke up on 31 October, and found that _someone_ who had already vacated the room long since had put a fearsomely carved Jack 'O Lantern on his chest. It began to move, probably in an attempt to creep him out, but Harry, who was almost in the habit of dealing with such occurrences by now, simply pulled his wand out from under his pillow and incanted, " _Finite incantatem."_ The movement froze. " _Perbito."_ The pumpkin vanished. Harry sighed. The pranks were hardly harmful, but they did get old after a while. He wondered idly if the other boys in his dorm would eventually realize that he was simply ignoring their attempts and stop. He hoped they wouldn't try to escalate things, because there were four of them, one of him, and one potential ally who might stick to the sidelines if he was lucky. The odds weren't exactly stacked in his favor.

As he got out of bed and prepared himself for classes that day, Harry thought back to his idea that talking to Hermione today might work. If he was honest with himself, it was a long shot, but he couldn't think of anything else to do, so he went off to Defense Against the Dark Arts, fully prepared to spend the whole Charms period that followed smelling of garlic. But then when he was leaving Charms after a mildly successful attempt at making a feather fly, he heard a commotion in the corridor. He didn't spare it a glance, surrounded by Slytherins as he was 'commotions' tended to happen pretty regularly. Then a bushy brown streak flew past him.

"Hermione?" That wasn't usual at all.

"That's right, run, you dirty little—!" but Nott was swiftly cut off by Malfoy, who had just noticed that Harry had already left the classroom.

Swiftly putting two and two together, Harry continued walking, trying desperately not to let his anger show. Getting his wand out before they did for the first time, Harry subtly held the stick at his side. As he rounded the next corner, Harry muttered, " _furnunculus,"_ aiming his wand at Nott, who had started moving swiftly away from Harry's advancing form. Not stopping to see the result, Harry slipped his wand into his sleeve as he smacked his forehead, pretending he'd forgotten something and doubling back towards the classroom. But when he passed the door, he looked around, and seeing the corridor had emptied, began running in the direction he'd seen Hermione running. Lunch was in just a few minutes, but that could wait. First he had to find Hermione.

He ran for several minutes trying to find her, but his search was fruitless. Giving up and hoping Hermione would show up at lunch so he could corner her and get the full story, Harry began heading to Herbology, only for a tapestry to open up in front of him, disgorging two redheaded carbon copies of one another. Harry knew these two by reputation: Fred and George Weasley.

"Well well well, what do we have here, George?" one asked.

"It seems, dear Fred, that we have a wee lost firstie."

"Indeed it does, my brother. What on earth could he be up to?"

"I don't know, running all around the corridors like that. It boggles the mind what the newest Slytherin seeker could _possibly_ be up to."

"Wait—" Harry tried to interject.

"I know, doesn't it just? Makes one wonder if it has anything to do with the one little lion who isn't in her class right now, doesn't it?"

"Mmm, good point, it does! After all," the two looked very intently at Harry, "the two of them have been known to spend time together, haven't they?"

Harry wasn't quite sure what to say. "Er, what are you two talking about? And how did you—I mean—what?"

"Ah, my dear brother, it seems we've confused him with our gander, doesn't it?"

"That it does. Perhaps a simpler approach would be best?"

"Yes, it might…" The two paused for a second. "Why are you running around looking for Hermione Granger?"

Harry could hardly believe his ears. "Wait, what? What's that got to do with me being a seeker?"

"Oh my dear, slithery Slytherin, we have our own sources of information. Don't worry yourself too much. Now, about the young Granger—"

"Just what's so interesting about her?"

Harry couldn't tell if they were being serious or not. "I-Hermione's my friend! What do you want to know about her? She was upset earlier, and now I can't find her!"

The twins looked at each other speculatively.

"Well now, we might just possibly know where to find her. But first—"

"How on earth did you end up playing as seeker for Slytherin? And how does the whole school not know yet?"

"That's a more impressive feat than you might realize."

"I-I…" Harry stammered, "I don't know what you're talking about." How did they know?

"Oh dear, he seems to think he can fool us with such a weak act!"

"No, no, my dear boy, you see we already know. We were simply wondering how such an incredible secret gets kept when there isn't a single person in this castle who'd willingly keep it"

Harry felt panic begin to set in. "Um…I-I don't…why would you think…"

The twins shared another look. "Harry," one began, "we don't think. We know. You simply need to indulge our curiosity."

"How on earth do you keep the team quiet?"

Harry didn't see much point in hiding it, they seemed so sure. "I…I wear a hood. The other players don't see my face."

"A hood?" one brother asked incredulously.

"But surely—"

"You can't be trying to say—"

"That none of the players know who you are?"

Harry dejectedly shook his head, "Marcus knows. But he insisted we keep it a secret until the first game. He's gonna kill me for letting you guys find out."

The twins shared a decidedly worried glance. "Now, Harry, let's not be hasty here."

"No one needs to find out about you."

"We were just indulging a bit of professional curiosity. Your secret—"

"Is safe with us."

Harry looked at them in disbelief. "You expect me to believe that the Gryffindor beaters aren't going to tell their team who the enemy seeker is?"

The twins smiled widely. Their synchronization was eerie. "Harry, my boy—"

"We two enjoy a good prank—"

"And we can think of none better—"

"Than a first year surprise seeker."

"It would go against our prankster's honor to ruin such a masterpiece."

Harry was very certain he didn't believe them. Why would they be so considerate?

"Now, we can see you have your doubts—"

"But allow us to prove ourselves."

"Follow along," they said in unison, turning and reopening the tapestry they'd come out of.

Not really sure what else to do, Harry followed them. He found himself in a dark corridor, with two retreating backs leading the way. He glared at them, trying to figure out what they wanted. They already seemed to know his biggest secret, and he doubted they'd be so nice as to actually keep it. He couldn't be sure how they found out, but he was certain it would get pinned on him somehow, it always did. And to make it worse, the two had probably already told the whole Gryffindor quidditch team, so it didn't matter if he convinced them somehow that he wasn't the seeker. He wasn't even sure he could, they seemed awfully certain of themselves. He didn't know why, he hadn't shown his face on the quidditch pitch since he'd tried out for the team, but…oh. Of course. They must have been on the pitch that night, hidden somewhere. The only question now was why they'd waited so long to rub it in his face that they knew.

As they neared the end of the corridor, one of the twins pressed an ear to the door at the end. Stepping back and nodding, he pushed it open and slipped out. Poking his head back in, he said, "Right up this way, she's still there." She? Who were they talking about? And why were they making him follow them anyway, they'd gotten what they wanted!

Beckoning him to follow, the remaining twin pushed the door open, stepping out into the corridor beyond. Resolved to just follow by this point, Harry stepped out as well, noticing with some surprise that the door was actually a painting on the other side. The occupant, a young lady sitting in a fancy dress, smiled and waved at his curious look.

"What are you looking at, come on," one of the twins called, holding a door open just down the hallway. Harry walked over, entering in front of them at their beckoning.

"Third stall down, and don't ask how we know," one of the twins said with a quick wink, before he let the door swing shut behind Harry, leaving him alone. It was at this point that Harry noticed that the twins had led him into a bathroom. What was this all about? Harry was about to open the door and demand to know when he heard a soft sniffling come from one of the stalls. Wait, it couldn't be.

"Hermione?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Harry?" a voice responded. Harry heard a slight shuffling and then the door in the third stall opened. "Harry, what are you doing here? This is the girl's bathroom!" Hermione squeaked.

Harry resolved to punch the next set of identical redheads he saw. "I…I saw you running after Charms, and I thought…" Harry trailed off, not sure what he'd thought. "Hermione, what did Malfoy and Nott say to you?"

Hermione's eyes shot to his. "I-nothing," she said, but Harry could tell she was lying.

"Hermione, nothing doesn't send someone off crying to the bathroom," Harry said, "Why were you even anywhere near the Charms classroom, it's lunchtime!"

Hermione's shoulders shook once. "I…I was going to ask Professor Flitwick for some tips on the charm to make things fly, I've been having a bit of trouble with it. I thought I could catch him when no one was around, but…" she didn't need to finish. She'd found the Slytherins there instead.

"What did they say, Hermione?" he tried to ask gently.

Hermione's head drooped. "They…they just said some things about my hair," she tried.

"Hermione, I have a hard time believing you'd run off and cry just because one more stuck-up idiot didn't like your hair."

"I-they…Harry, it doesn't matter what they said, they were just—"

"Hermione, if it has you this upset, then it matters. I told you that Malfoy and the rest are just a bunch of jerks, but I know that what they do hurts sometimes. Hermione, _what did they do?"_

What remaining energy she had left seemed to drop straight out of Hermione's body. Her shoulder drooped, her arms fell limply at her sides, and her weight shifted dangerously backwards. "Harry…they called me a…" Hermione muttered something so quietly that Harry didn't catch it.

"They called you a what, Hermione?"

"They called me a m-m-m…a m-mudblood…wh-whore. Harry they just won't stop, and I don't know what I'm going to do anymore, and I-I just—"

"Hermione!" Harry interrupted, "Hermione, what do you mean they won't stop? Has this been happening for a long time? Is this why you wouldn't talk to Neville and me?"

Hermione sniffed loudly, and her body started to shake. "Th-they've been whispering things in the corridors f-f-for ages now. A-at f-f-first they would just shove me or c-call be a b-bushyhead, b-but then they started t-telling me that I was j-just a s-stupid mudblood and that I should j-just go away with the rest of my f-filth. And then…and then…" Hermione trailed off, but Harry had a fair idea where they'd gone from there.

Damnit! Harry had weathered their stupid pranks for months now, hoping that they wouldn't do anything worse if he just sat there and took it. How could he have been so stupid, of course they'd do something worse!

"Hermione," Harry began, "I'm—"

But as he reached out in whatever small attempt at comfort he could manage, Hermione's knees gave out, and he suddenly lunged forward to find himself holding her up by her arms.

"Um, Hermione?" he asked, "Are you okay?" Then he mentally kicked himself, of course she wasn't okay. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I should have noticed that those jerks weren't going after me with everything they had; I should have realized why you weren't talking. Hermione, you're a great friend and you deserve so much better than me, I could hardly even notice that you weren't feeling okay. I…I'm so sorry, Hermione." Harry held her, trying desperately to comfort her but not knowing how.

Hermione's shaking slowed. "H-Harry, what are you talking about?" He looked at her in surprise. "Harry, it wasn't your fault, why are you apologizing?"

"I…Hermione I should have known better. They were hardly even coming after me at all!"

Hermione looked up, right into his eyes. "Harry, how could you have known? I was hiding from you; I was hardly even helping you study! You should hate me right now; I've been a terrible friend!"

Harry blinked in shock. "Hate you? Hermione, I just found out that you managed to keep up with your own schoolwork, help me with mine, and you were getting bullied by those stupid idiots the whole time. Why would I hate you? You're probably my best friend! I mean you're amazing, you managed to work through so much stress. I'm the one who…who let you down."

Hermione stood up a bit straighter, and Harry realized he could stop holding her up now.

"Harry, you had no way of knowing. I…Harry I'm supposed to be the one who's upset about this, why are you beating yourself up?" Hermione's eyes met his again, and Harry suddenly felt trapped by her gaze. Why was he so upset? Hadn't he come here to comfort her? No, he'd come because of the Weasley twins. What had he been talking about?

"I-I…Hermione, it's just so obvious now. I should have realized what you were dealing with, I should have helped!"

"Harry, you're the best friend I could have asked for," Hermione said, "but you aren't that good. Just…just hearing you say that we're best friends now is enough, so let's stick with that." And then she was leaning forward and hugging him. Harry stood there stiffly, not really sure how to react to that. He awkwardly reached up to pat her back, not sure who was comforting who, or why. And then Hermione suddenly shot away from him.

"Harry! This is the girl's bathroom! We can't be here!" And with that, the moment was over. Hermione harassed him out the door, pushing and shoving until they were quite a ways down the hall. Eventually, he managed to get her off of him to walk on his own.

"So…are you alright now, Hermione?" he asked, wondering how she'd managed to go from a crying mess to her usual energetic self so quickly.

"Harry, I'm fine. I-you don't even know what it's been like lately, with Malfoy and Nott catching me at every turn, and then when I started to avoid you…I thought you would hate me. I don't know why, you told me you didn't but I guess I convinced myself you were just being nice. But then today…you went into the girl's bathroom looking for me. You wouldn't have done that if you were just being nice. And then you thought that it was all your fault…Harry, you're probably the best friend in the world, it's not your fault that you don't know everything. You shouldn't beat yourself up about it."

Harry was a bit surprised at that. Was he beating himself up? And at any rate, who was she to tell him not to beat himself up? "Hermione, you could take your own advice."

"What?"

"Hermione, you were doing the same thing, weren't you? You thought it was your fault that my dorm mates hated me, and you were even going to try to pretend we weren't friends anymore to help me. That wasn't your fault at all, and it's certainly not your problem to fix!"

Hermione stared at him, clearly quite shocked. A silence stretched out between the two of them. Harry just hoped that Hermione would be her normal self after this, he'd missed her. Neville was a great guy, and he knew an amazing amount about Herbology, but Hermione had been the first person at Hogwarts to really accept him. She was a bit bossy, and definitely a know-it-all, but she had also been the one who'd helped him onto the platform, and discussed the Hogwarts houses with him. It didn't really matter that she accidentally rubbed it in his face sometimes, her incredible knowledge and memory came in handy, and she didn't care at all that he was a Slytherin like the rest of the school. Neville seemed okay with him, but Hermione, out of everyone in the whole Great Hall, had applauded him. He didn't think he could ever forget that.

Eventually, the Great Hall drew near, as it always did. Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

"I—"

"Harry, you—"

They both stopped to let the other speak. Neither seemed to want to finish their unspoken thought. At last Hermione quietly said, "Harry…thank you. I don't know where I'd be without you, you're a great friend. I…thanks," she finished off, mumbling a bit.

"I…Hermione…" Harry wasn't even sure what he wanted to say. He settled with, "Hermione, you're a great friend too. You shouldn't forget that, no matter what anyone says." Then, before she could reply, two tall redheaded twins seemed to pick her up by the arms and carry her off.

"Now now, what have we been telling you, dearie, you musn't dawdle," one said.

"Indeed, you must proceed with all haste, and tell us what…" but then they rounded the corner into the Great Hall and Harry couldn't hear what they were saying. He stood there in shock for several long seconds, wishing more and more with every second that he'd remembered to punch them like he'd promised himself. But now he knew it was too late. He couldn't approach the Gryffindor table at mealtime, he'd just have to wait until later to ask Hermione what had happened. Sighing in defeat, he walked once more to the end of the Slytherin table and began to eat. It had been a confusing day, and it wasn't even halfway over yet.

* * *

After lunch, Harry went to Herbology, before heading to the library like he usually did. This time, he was relieved to find Hermione waiting for him, discussing something with Neville.

"But don't you think it could come in handy? I mean you never know when you'll have to send a secret message." Hermione's voice was filled with all of its usual enthusiasm.

"Maybe," Neville's voice answered back, "but wouldn't it take a really long time to learn?"

At this point, Harry rounded the bookshelf between them and said, "Well it's Hermione, Neville. It'll probably take her a third of the time it'd take any normal person."

"Harry!" Hermione's said, startled.

Harry grinned at her, "What, you disagree? I mean personally I think you could do it in less, but you've got schoolwork to worry about and help us with, so you won't be going at your usual pace."

"Harry!" Hermione said again, this time sounding far more irritated with him.

"Right," Neville interrupted, "let's not start. But anyway Hermione, I meant to ask, you seem…better today. Did something happen?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. He motioned for her to answer.

"I…yes," she said, "Harry…Harry helped me out with a problem I've been having lately."

"A problem?" Neville asked.

"Malfoy and Nott," Harry provided. Hermione glared at him. Ignoring this, Harry continued, "You might as well know the whole story. They've been bugging her, and she was keeping it from us. That's why she was so upset. But I hexed Nott, and convinced Hermione that they're really just two pompous blowhards that she doesn't need to listen to."

"Wait, you hexed Nott?" Hermione asked, sounding shocked.

"Oh, right, you didn't see that part. Yeah, I hit him with the boil hex. I was a bit…irritated." Harry attempted to shrug the matter off.

"So that's why…" Hermione said, trailing off.

"Why what?" Neville asked.

"Oh, well you saw how the twins were interrogating me at lunch? They mentioned something about a knight in shining armor, casting boils on all of my foes. It didn't make much sense until…"

Harry felt his face heat up. A knight in shining armor? He'd just been frustrated, and finally snapped. Oh, he was going to get back at those two somehow, he didn't care how. Looking back up, he saw that an awkward silence had fallen. He struggled to find something to say.

"Well! What about Charms today? How did you two do with your feathers, I could barely get mine to float at the end of the lesson."

From there, the conversation thankfully moved back to its usual tone, three friends talking about how difficult magic was and helping each other try to figure it out with the occasional bit of teasing along the way. Harry wasn't really sure why the gentle ribbing felt so natural, but he did know that he liked it, and so he didn't question it much. It was especially fun when they got the chessboard out, because Hermione liked to critique the boys when they were playing, and it gradually became more about who could focus on their own moves over the 'advice' flying through the air, because Harry started 'critiquing' her back, suggesting moves that made no sense whatsoever, and Neville, seeing the value in the strategy, quickly joined until none of them were quite sure what they were or weren't trying to do.

After an hour or so of chess shenanigans, Harry, Hermione, and Neville packed up their things and headed to the feast. Harry wasn't really looking forward to it, if only because he hadn't enjoyed a meal at Hogwarts since his housemates had first realized he was a 'dirty mudblood lover like his father,' and begun shunning him. Still, he smiled along with Hermione and Neville as they discussed the various treats that would be present, and the potential each one had to rot their teeth. Hermione still hadn't given up on her support of a less sugary diet, on the grounds that she had yet to find evidence of the spell that Neville had mentioned to prevent tooth decay. Harry wasn't entirely sure she was searching thoroughly for the spell. He was fairly certain that Neville was being honest in saying that he'd never brushed his teeth, despite having a perfectly healthy set, and Hermione was probably just trying to convince herself that he couldn't possibly be right.

As they approached the feast, Hermione and Neville both seemed to suddenly realize that Harry wouldn't be able to join them, and they all slowed down. But then, behind them, Harry heard two voices he had grown to hate in the short span of one day.

"No no no, none of that,"

"Come now, little children, don't you think the hero should be eager to party on such a wonderful day?"

Harry turned to face the Weasley twins. "Now—" But that was all he got out before he was grabbed bodily, one twin for his head, another for his feet, and carried to the Great Hall. "Wait, what are you—" but the twins interrupted him.

"Everybody welcome—"

"The one and only—"

"THE BOY WHO LIVED!" The two finished their proclamation together, the one with his feet somehow managing to _swing Harry upright_ and hold him over his head. Harry suddenly felt quite lightheaded. On a somewhat subdued level, he noticed that the entire Great Hall had fallen silent, but the twins hadn't stopped. The one not holding Harry threw something at the end of the Gryffindor table, which was promptly engulfed in smoke. As it cleared, a large cake and several pies that hadn't been on the table before were revealed, each of them sporting a red lightning bolt right in the middle.

"Come on everybody, this is a feast!" one of the twins shouted.

"Let's start the Halloween CELEBRATIONS!" The other bellowed, and this broke the silence. Suddenly everyone was chattering and talking amongst themselves, though Harry noticed quite a few eyes were still pointed his way. The twin who was carrying Harry let him down, waving his wand and muttering something. Suddenly his lightheadedness faded, and Harry's clear mind presented him with one course of action. Before he could punch either twin, however, they were offering him pie.

"Meat pie, oh savior?" one asked.

"We have beef, or would Mr. Potter prefer pork?" the other, continued, offering a two different pies. They appeared to notice the look on his face, however, and quickly changed tactics.

"Harry," the first twin said in a more serious, quiet voice, "today's your day. And as fellow pranksters we couldn't just let you keep sitting miserably at the Slytherin table like you have been. Isn't that right?" the twin that had spoken turned suddenly, fixing his house table with a pointed stare. Harry saw a lot of uncomfortable looks, and a few reluctant nods.

"Don't mind them," the other twin said, "they'll get used to you. But trust us, we've noticed that you're friends with our own, and we are fully prepared to make an exception to our anti-Slytherin policy, just this once."

Harry looked out at the Gryffindor table in disbelief. He didn't see a whole lot of support for the twins' statements, but he didn't see anyone disagreeing with them, either. Then he heard a voice from behind him.

"Harry, the rest of the school is going to take some time, but you have us, right?" he turned to see Hermione had spoken. She didn't look surprised by any of the changes to the Gryffindor table.

"Hermione, you knew about this?"

She nodded. "Harry, your housemates may not like you, but you do have friends. We couldn't just let you spend Halloween alone while we had fun at the feast."

Harry was thunderstruck. He hadn't thought that either one of his friends, let alone the twins, had realized that he wasn't looking forward to the feast.

"Come on, Harry, let's sit down," Hermione said, guiding him to a seat. He noticed that despite the twins' words, no one was sitting anywhere near the end of the table. But still, he reflected as he sat down, he had Hermione, Neville, and the twins for company. That might just make up for it.

As the feast went on, the twins took every opportunity they could to cause chaos. Harry privately wondered how a house with these two in it ever got things done. They'd hidden 'surprises' in some of the pies, which could do anything from popping out of the center to surprise you, to one that exploded all over Neville when he tried to take a bite.

Just as Harry was about to say something about this, Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

The mess all over Neville was forgotten in the mad scramble for the doors. Harry saw another redhead, who could have been related to the twins, attempting to bring order to the mass of Gryffindors. Then he felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, you have to go with the other Slytherins!" she managed to shout over the din.

Realizing she was right, he nodded and tried to push his way through the crowd. It was like trying to avoid being sucked into the muddy garden on a rainy day as he pulled weeds; there was simply nothing for it. He pushed as hard as he could, but by the time he'd crossed the hall, the Slytherins were already out the door, and he had to hurry to follow them. When he got to the doors, he saw the Slytherins again, appearing to be conversing amongst themselves about something, before heading off in the wrong direction. Confused, he tried to follow them, but there were still people about, and by the time he'd gotten to the corridor they'd gone down they were nowhere in sight. Jogging down the corridor in a vain attempt to find them, Harry tried to think what he knew about this area of the castle. He couldn't come up with anything, and as he passed more and more side passages, Harry eventually took one, hoping it would lead him where he wanted to go. It ran for some distance before it reached a staircase. Harry didn't recognize the staircase; it must have been a smaller one separate from the primary staircases that led between floors. That meant that Harry was lost.

Beginning to panic, Harry ran up the stairs. He had to get away from the dungeons, that's where the troll was, and the easiest way to do that was to go up. Maybe that's what the other Slytherins had been thinking? It didn't matter. The larger problem still remained.

Harry was lost in a large castle, and there was a troll on the loose.

* * *

 **A/N: Heh heh. Yeah. See that's what happens when I do a double release…**

 **Okay, actually the chapter was starting to get long, and this was a good stopping point. I mean, I've nearly run out of material to write about! There was Harry's initial reaction to school, his friendships with Hermione, Blaise, and Neville, lessons, the hidden message in the language of flowers, and then…well I haven't planned that far ahead yet!**

 **Or have I?**

 **I suppose you'll just have to wait to find out.**

 **For those of you wondering why Harry used an unfamiliar spell to vanish the pumpkin prank, I support the idea that** _ **evanesco**_ **is a spell designed to specifically vanish fluids. Otherwise Snape might have been vanishing cauldrons as well, and that would be destruction of property. Of course, it's also possible that one can target the spell at solids or liquids, but having a different spell for fluids and solids isn't too complicated, and would certainly help a school age kid who might have a hard time focusing on the orange juice they spilled, rather than the table they spilled it on. If nothing else, the fact that there's a different incantation would help direct the caster's focus, even if a talented enough person didn't need a different spell, or an incantation at all.**

 **And for anyone curious, as I know I usually am,** _ **evanesco**_ **is one letter away from evanesce, which means to pass out of sight or memory, whereas** _ **perbito**_ **is simple perbit, the latin word for 'vanish' except I added an o to the end for incantational purposes.**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hey, everybody, fascinating news! I got my first flame review! It's still there, if y'all want to go read it. I thought it was kinda funny, how they picked one mildly out of place thing to hate and then stuck to generic arguments for the rest of the review. Seriously, go check it out, this is a big moment for me.**

 **Now, I won't always pay flames this much attention, but I'm in a good mood, and as I said, this is my first one ever. I think the only time I'd pay attention to a flame other than this would be if they actually criticized a real plot hole or serious stylistic flaw they'd noticed. And at that point it's not really a flame, is it?**

 **Why is this so exciting to me? I don't know. Probably because it's new.**

 **Right, I'm done; you can start reading the chapter with the rest of the readers who skipped the author's note.**

* * *

Harry wasn't quite panicking, but he was close. He knew his way to class pretty well, but he didn't know much about the rest of the castle. Why had the Slytherins even gone this way? Had they realized that heading to the dungeons where the troll was would be bad? If so, where on earth could they be headed?

Harry was brought out of his thoughts by an odd smell. It smelled like rotten eggs. Ugh, what was that?

This was when Peeves popped into view, shrieking. The poltergeist held several eggs that probably were rotten, and he promptly dumped them all on Harry, cackling with glee. "Wandering the wrong part of the castle on the day of the dead, wee little firstie? Now you smell like the dead, too!" Peeves made a loud raspberry as he zoomed backward into the nearest wall. Cursing as well as he knew how, which admittedly wasn't very well; Harry tried to brush the eggs off. Then, remembering he knew how to deal with this type of thing, Harry pulled out his wand.

" _Perbito. Scourigify."_ The eggs vanished, followed by their rotten odor. Harry looked around. He figured he was on the second floor, and that was where Charms was. If he could just find the charms classroom, he'd be golden. As he began to wander the corridors, however, he found himself reminded unpleasantly of his first day. He was hopelessly lost. But then, just as he was about to sink to the floor in despair and wait for someone to come find him, he heard a pleasant voice.

"Oh, you're back."

Harry glanced around madly, his gaze finally falling on the portrait of a pretty woman. Why did she look familiar? Oh!

"You're the one from earlier!" he exclaimed, "You hide the secret passage!"

"Indeed I do, young man," she replied, smiling, "Would you like to make use of it?"

"Yes, I would!" Harry practically shouted. This was perfect; he'd be back near the Charms classroom if he took this passage. Then from there he could try to go to the library or somewhere until it all blew over.

"Very well young man, proceed as you please," the lady said kindly, her portrait swinging open.

"Thank—"

But Harry was interrupted by a wave of stench that put the rotten eggs from earlier to shame. Looking around in confusion, he didn't see anything. And then, from around the corner by the bathroom that he'd talked to Hermione in earlier, a hulking form lumbered into view. The stench immediately grew much worse. Harry only had time to take in the grayish skin and the large club before the portrait swung back shut.

"No, I don't think so. I'll not be destroyed simply because you need an escape route!" The lady proceeded to get up and run as quickly as she could from her frame. Harry swore again. The troll had noticed him by now, and it was sniffing the air curiously. But then it lowered its head and raised its club.

Harry didn't wait. He turned and ran. He knew nothing about trolls, but just seeing it was enough that he didn't like his chances.

Unfortunately, he heard the thundering footfalls behind him growing closer at an alarming rate. Risking a glance backward, he saw the troll moving with incredible speed despite its bulk. Acting on pure instinct, Harry pulled out his wand and shot the first spell that came to his mind. _"Furnunculus!"_ Harry heard a roar of pain, and hoped he'd hit something important. Seeing a fork ahead, Harry went right. He thought he might have hit the face; that was where he'd been aiming. Maybe the troll couldn't see which way he'd gone?

"GRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The gigantic footfalls resumed with the roar, and they appeared to be following him. How? Could the troll…it had smelled him out! He might have even gotten lucky enough to hit its eyes, but that wouldn't save him.

"HEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLP!" Harry cried out, desperately hoping that the professors would have realized the troll wasn't actually in the dungeons by now. But he heard no response.

Fully panicked now, Harry poured everything he could into running. He took as many turns as he could manage, trying desperately to keep distance between him and the troll. After his third turn, however, he heard the troll coming up behind him, too close. Not even sure what he was doing, Harry turned around as quickly as he could. The troll was bearing down on him but it couldn't react, it hadn't expected that! Sprinting right past it before it could recover; Harry managed to get a bit of distance between him and the troll. But then the footsteps began to shake the ground again, and Harry knew his time was limited. He couldn't keep running much longer, his lungs were already on fire. He took a right, then a left, and then a right, fortunately close enough to each other to keep the troll away. But then he found himself on a straightaway, with no turns to speak of. Not sure what he could do, Harry felt hope begin to dwindle. He knew nothing more dangerous than the hex he'd used, and it'd barely slowed the troll down.

Harry was just about to give in to despair when he saw movement at the end of the corridor. It was the professors! Finding just enough in him for one last burst of speed, Harry saw Professor Flitwick cast something over his head. He didn't turn to look, but he heard the loud footsteps behind him falter and slow. He managed to make out a disapproving look from Professor McGonagall as he passed, but then he was past the professors. He nearly collapsed in relief. Then he heard a very loud bang behind him. He turned to see what it was.

Professor Dumbledore stood, wand outstretched, and the troll was flying backwards with great speed. Harry vaguely felt his jaw drop in awe at the raw power that must have taken. Then he saw Professor Flitwick shoot a sickly orange beam of light, which hit the troll's flying body. Suddenly, there was a very sizeable hole in the troll's torso. With a loud and very final **thud,** the body fell to the ground. Harry managed to stumble over to a wall to prop himself up. His knees suddenly felt very weak.

And then, almost as one, the line of professors who had almost casually dispatched a troll turned to face Harry. He heard a small whimper and looked around, only to find it had come from him.

"What do you think you were doing?" Professor McGonagall had never sounded so cross, "You were ordered to your common room, which is definitely nowhere near the second floor! You are very lucky we tracked the troll as quickly as we did. You could have been killed! What were you _thinking?"_

Harry could feel himself shrinking under the sheer rage. "I—Professor, I didn't know…the dungeons…I didn't want to get lost," Harry stopped, attempting to regain control of his breathing, but he saw Professor Flitwick's face twist in horror.

"Albus, the dungeons! We sent the whole house of Slytherin right to where we had every reason to believe the troll was roaming!" Horror and understanding dawned on the other Professors' faces.

"They..they didn't go to the dungeons," Harry managed, "I saw them go right out of the great hall. I was behind because of the crowd…I tried to follow them but I didn't know where they were going."

"And then I presume you ran into the lonely staircase, ascended in an attempt to distance yourself from the troll, and found yourself instead being pursued?" Professor Dumbledore's voice seemed to be a wave of calm, slowing his racing pulse and inviting more rational thought.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, "Although I didn't know what the staircase was, I just thought that anything going up was better than nothing."

"Perfectly reasonable," Dumbledore said kindly, looking at his fellow professors, "I think that it may be best if we withhold judgment for now. Harry was, quite uniquely, not with his house as they left the Great Hall, and made every attempt to escape the troll. In fact, some awards might be in order for such quick thinking as to flee from the dungeons even without his house."

"My word!" came a voice from down the corridor. "Filius, did you do this?" Harry and the professors looked to see that Sprout had gone to examine the dead troll.

"What are you referring to? I did use a powerful banishing charm on one of its legs to stop it from reaching Mr. Potter, and then the—ah, drilling spell of sorts to finish it off." Professor Flitwick stumbled rather awkwardly when naming the spell he'd used to finish the troll, Harry noticed.

"No, its face is all messed up!" Sprout called back, "It looks like someone caught it with a rather impressive boil hex."

Flitwick looked suddenly back at Harry. It was a stern look that sent a thrill of panic through him, though he wasn't sure why.

"No, that wasn't me," Flitwick said, "I believe that was the work of Mr. Potter here."

Harry saw the other professors turn to look at him. "Oh! I mean, yes that was me. I thought maybe I could blind it…" he trailed off, embarrassed. It hadn't worked at all; the troll had smelled him out anyway.

"And you managed to hit the troll before it started chasing you?" McGonagall's incredulous voice came from his right.

"Well, no," Harry said, "but it was catching up to me so fast that I knew I had to do something. It was the first spell that came to mind."

Harry felt all of the professors looking at him intensely. He wanted very badly to sink through the floor in shame. He'd used such a pointless hex, and then they just had to find out. He hoped that this wouldn't get out to his classmates, or he'd never hear the end of it.

"My goodness, you hit such a small target while running from a fully grown troll? Why, I'm not sure that even Lily was that good under pressure!" Harry looked at Professor Flitwick incredulously. What about his mother?

"Indeed, it seems that Harry has displayed some rather impressive talent here, in addition to his quick thinking," Professor Dumbledore said, "I believe that at least 30 points to Slytherin are in order?" Dumbledore looked at the other professors questioningly, but none of them said anything. "Excellent. Now, we have a troll to dispose of. Filius, if you could show Harry to his common room?"

Flitwick seemed to take a moment to realize he was being addressed, before saying, "Of course, of course!" and guiding Harry away from the scene. Harry felt the eyes of the professors on his back as they walked away.

Trying to distract himself from the feeling, Harry asked, "You knew Lily?"

The little man looked at him with something akin to disbelief. "Of course I knew her! She was one of my best students! Why, the things she could do with a wand, it was unbelievable!"

Harry nodded, "Yeah, Hagrid told me a little bit."

"Hagrid? I suppose the two did know each other quite well. But your mother was incredible, Harry. She could take a tiny grain of rice and turn it into a fully functional dictation quill, and that was in her fifth year! Why, she was almost teaching the class by the time she graduated. Oh, she was a delight. It truly was a tragedy when…" he suddenly trailed off, sniffing slightly.

Harry wasn't sure what to say. It seemed like everyone had known his parents, or at least his mother. He found himself wondering idly what his father might have been like, especially since no one had really mentioned him.

At last, they reached the common room. _"Carpe noctem,"_ Professor Flitwick said, opening the hidden door. The password had changed some weeks earlier. "Well, here we are," the man said, "I imagine the rest of your house will be along shortly, now that the commotion's ended." Harry nodded. "Well then, I'll be off. I'll see you in class, and don't be afraid to come around asking about your parents. I knew them both, and you should know more about them."

"I'd like that," Harry said, before stepping into the common room. He turned and waved goodbye as the wall faded back into place. Then he looked around the empty common room. He came to a swift decision, fetched his book bag from his dorm, and headed to the library. He didn't want to deal with the entirety of Slytherin tonight. He quickly lost himself in his potions textbook, preparing for the next day's class.

* * *

It was a little over three hours later that he remembered he would have to return to Slytherin before curfew. He felt a small pellet of dread settle in his stomach.

As he packed up his books, he tried to figure out what he could expect when he arrived. No one would know anything about the troll, so he was probably safe there. All they'd know is that he was missing. He could probably get away with saying that he'd headed to the library instead of the common room, to avoid the dungeons. Yes, he decided that was all he'd say.

And he was wholly unprepared for the reception he got as soon as he opened the hidden common room door.

It seemed that every single Slytherin was present, clogging the couches and standing in various groups. They had been chattering madly about something, but as soon as they saw him, they went eerily silent and began to stare. Harry swallowed, but his throat was too dry.

"Harry. James. Potter," a tall boy sitting in the middle of the room said. "We've been waiting for you to arrive." The boy paused, as if he expected a response. When he continued, his tone was clearly disappointed. "You see, rumors have been flying about you, Mr. Potter. We in Slytherin like knowing the secret truth behind the rumor. And yet there doesn't seem to be a rational explanation here. Did you attack the troll? Why else would Slytherin have earned points? How on earth could someone have managed to do what you did to that troll? I think you can understand our confusion, Mr. Potter."

Harry felt the blood drain from his face. They thought he'd personally handled the troll. Why did they think that? Surely a few house points weren't enough evidence to go by? Harry tried desperately to come up with a sensible alternative, but his thoughts were interrupted.

"And then there's the mysterious new seeker that Flint won't tell us about," another boy said. "All we know is that he's small, probably male, and never takes off his hood. I wonder if that's a coincidence."

Oh, this was bad. He hadn't really taken down the troll, but he was the seeker. He tried to find Marcus's face in the crowd, but couldn't.

"So, Mr. Potter, what do you have to say to us?" the first boy asked.

Harry attempted to swallow again. His throat was still dry.

"I-I…" he croaked, "I don't know what you mean. I wasn't anywhere near the troll, and first years aren't allowed to play quidditch." He fell back to the default that Marcus had taught him for worst case scenarios.

"Oh, you can tell us, Mr. Potter," the boy coaxed, "We're certainly past the point where we think you are just a normal first year. You defeated the Dark Lord as a babe, now you have casually taken out a fully grown troll. It would appear that the legends were correct, despite their absolutely ridiculous magnitude. You may have been hiding your true skills, but now you've slipped up."

Harry felt like the world was crashing down around him. How could they possibly believe that he'd done that to a troll? He'd barely managed to slow the thing down.

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but you're definitely drawing the wrong conclusions here!" Harry began walking toward his dorm, hoping to escape this mess. The crowd parted before him in eerie silence. He tried not to think about the gesture as he made his way to his dorm. Once he was there, he wasted no time donning his bedclothes and getting under the covers. When his roommates entered the room five minutes later, he pretended he was asleep. They soon gave up trying to draw his attention. Eventually, he heard all of them get into their own beds. When he finally heard their breathing lengthen and relax, he felt some of his own tension drain away. It still took him hours to sleep as he tried to figure out how he was going to handle the rest of his house. He wasn't certain that blanket denial would work for much longer, it just wasn't convincing.

When he finally drifted off to sleep well after midnight, his dreams were full of large monsters, demanding crowds, and occasionally crowds of giant monsters. He was almost relieved when the buzzing of his alarm charm woke him.

* * *

The following morning, Harry discovered what fame was truly like. Until the troll, everyone had avoided openly staring, afraid that he might notice and unleash some Slytherin horror on them. Now, oddly enough, his prowess at defeating a fully grown troll made them _less_ shy. He wondered about this out loud to Hermione and Neville as they walked to potions.

"Well, you're not the sneaky Slytherin anymore, are you?" Neville said, "You went out of your way to beat up a troll. Not that you really did, but that's what they're going to think whether you want them to or not." He hastily added the last part, seeing a dark look from Harry. He'd told the two of them what really happened, but they were probably the only two people in the castle who'd believe him. Everyone else seemed to think he was just denying the truth.

"So you're telling me that people are less afraid of someone who'd go toe to toe with a troll than a measly first year who _might_ pull a prank on them later?"

"Yes," Neville stated with certainty. "The wizard who'd fight a troll won't try to stab you in the dark, or worse, in the back."

Harry shook his head. "People really hate Slytherin, don't they?"

Hermione's face grew thoughtful, "You know, they might just be jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Well think about it. You may not have actually done anything to it, but you were smarter than three quarters of the school about trying to go _away_ from where you thought it was. I know I'm a bit shocked I didn't think of it myself, everyone knows the general location of the Slytherin common room."

"You know you might have something there," Neville said, "You do see a lot of successful Slytherins in business and politics. They're not ambitious for nothing."

The three of them mulled this over as they neared the potions classroom. When they reached the door, Neville turned to Harry.

"You should work with Hermione today," he said.

"Why?"

"I can handle myself for one day, Harry, and you're going to need all the help you can get."

"Wait, why do I need extra help today?"

Neville's face tightened, "You said yourself that none of the Slytherins believed that you didn't defeat the troll. They might be out for blood today."

Harry considered that. Neville was still getting over his timid nature, but he was pretty smart about the wizarding world. And he could see some of the Slytherin boys getting jealous. "Alright. Hermione?" She nodded, and they went to their seats. As he usually did, Harry gravitated to the middle of the room. It wasn't the front, and it wasn't the back. It allowed Snape to carefully ignore him, and Harry wasn't going to mess with that.

As class began, however, their Professor seemed to have other ideas.

"Potter! You seem to think yourself quite adept, what would I get if I was to mix a plucked trumpet flower into a brew of basil?" Snape's tone was sharp enough to cut glass.

Beside him, Hermione inhaled sharply. Of course she'd know, Harry thought. But do I? He tried to remember studying with Hermione, but nothing was coming to him. He thought that perhaps it was a something that increased strength, but he wasn't certain. Looking at the murderous expression on his face, Harry knew he couldn't say nothing, so he made a guess.

"I-I think it's the Muscularity Potion, sir."

Just as Snape was about to reply, Hermione raised her hand. "Sir, I actually had a question about that."

Snape spared Hermione the briefest of disdainful glares before attempting to ignore her. "You—" but to everyone's incredulity, Hermione interrupted the professor.

"Sir, I was wondering whether saffron, or even bugloss might be a better addition to that potion. After all, saffron is known to enhance a potion's properties, isn't it?"

Absolute silence reigned. The Gryffindors were all staring in horrified amazement at Hermione, while the Slytherins stared at Snape, expecting him to enact a horrid punishment. And then he spoke.

"You, Miss Granger, ought to do your research more carefully. Saffron reacts horribly with basil, and has been the cause of many brewers' deaths. Now. Sit. _Down."_ Sufficiently cowed, Hermione sat back down.

Professor Snape seemed to gather himself for a moment. "Today, we will be brewing the very potion we were discussing. Do be sure to follow the _correct_ instructions, or the consequences will be…dire."

Everyone hurriedly got out their materials and began working. Five minutes in, as their basil began to dissolve and they had a spare moment, Harry turned to Hermione.

"What was that?" he demanded.

She looked around pointedly. "Not here." Harry followed her gaze. Even if they were quiet, he supposed it was possible they could be overheard. But that had sounded like the language of flowers to him. He desperately wanted to know what had been said, even if he could see the wisdom of waiting until they had a bit of privacy. So the rest of the potions class passed very, very slowly for Harry. At least whatever Hermione had said to Snape had convinced the professor to resume his typical ignorance of Harry. The other Slytherins in the class would occasionally glance toward Harry, but they all seemed to realize that their Head of House had authority, and had given up his aggression toward Harry.

That didn't mean they would avoid him outside of class, so Harry hastened to get gone as soon as class ended, Hermione and Neville following behind him. After several corridors, and enough turns that they could be certain any pursuers were at least well behind them, Harry slowed. Blaise had advised him about avoidance; the key was to maneuver yourself so that a pursuer was put in a situation disadvantageous enough that they couldn't do anything. Even when he wasn't sure he was being pursued, Harry had gotten in the habit of making himself hard to follow, just in case.

"Harry…what's the big rush…you're acting like all of Slytherin's on our heels," Neville panted.

"They may very well be, Neville," Harry said, "You said it yourself; they're probably out for blood. Especially after what Hermione did in there."

"Harry, I had to do that! Snape was saying—"

"Hermione, I don't blame you! Still, we need to be careful going forward. It's hard to say exactly how Slytherin as a house feels about us right now, but it's safer to assume they don't like us than it is to assume they'll leave us alone."

"So we need to run in the corridors?" Neville asked.

"We need to avoid Slytherins in the corridors," Harry corrected, "It doesn't really matter how we achieve that."

"Right," Neville said. "So what did you do in there Hermione?"

The girl in question looked around nervously, "Well, you remember the language of flower, right?" she asked in a hushed voice. Neville nodded. "Well, Snape's question was more than just trivia, like our first day, or that time he told us to be careful with the pineapples. Except this time he wasn't being nice at all. The trumpet flower and basil mean something like, 'Your fame causes me hatred.' So I took the time that Harry spent answering the actual question to formulate a little response. Saffron and bugloss would definitely be a bad idea to add to a potion together, but it was the best I could come up with. They mean, 'beware of excess falsehoods," if I remember correctly. I figured that might get Snape to stop and think, because he must know the real story, he's a professor!"

"And you were willing to _interrupt_ the strictest teacher in the school to tell him this?" Neville asked incredulously.

Hermione paled a bit at the thought, "Well, I knew that he had to put on an act. I suppose I was hoping I could get through to him before he assigned a detention."

Harry was impressed. That had been a risky move, but she'd charged right ahead with it anyway. But that was Hermione, wasn't it? She'd done the same thing at the feast. "Well, good job getting Professor Snape to back down, Hermione. I must say though, that was a pretty risky move. I think anyone doubting that you have what it takes to be in Gryffindor will be reconsidering that notion right about now."

"What do you mean?"

"Hermione, you stood in front of the professor that three quarters of the school fears and corrected him on a matter of judgment. No one else may know exactly what you were up to, but they did see _Professor Snape_ back down from you after you talked over him. I don't think _anyone_ has ever pulled something like that off."

Hermione was blushing profusely. "I…I hadn't thought of it that way," she said, "I was just helping you out."

"Hermione, if the troll taught me anything, it's that what others see matters a whole lot more than what actually happens. What really happened is even more incredible than what people saw this time, but what they saw was still pretty unbelievable. You could be a legend by dinner."

"Well," Neville interjected, "she might have been, if the rumors about you weren't still everywhere. You never know how people will manipulate what happened, but sometimes you can make decent predictions."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked.

"Well, Snape was digging into you in class. Hermione defended you, not herself. I know that the Daily Prophet would probably write something about her being your…well your protective minion or something."

"They say what?" Hermione exploded.

"Er, Hermione, calm down!" Neville said, backing off slightly, "I said that's what they might say, not that they have! But still, you have to admit it makes sense. Harry is the sensation right now, and everyone knows you're his good friend. I might even believe it if I didn't know the truth."

"That makes absolutely no sense at all!" Hermione raged, "People don't just have minions to protect them from scorn, and Harry and I are friends, not some perverse servant and master!"

Harry, who had been listening carefully, interrupted at this point, "Well, it might be obvious to you, Hermione, but look at it from their point of view. We hardly go out in public, and you just defended me from an angry professor. It's definitely not true!" he added at her look, "But that's only obvious because we're…us. It's just like I was saying. It doesn't matter what the truth is. People think I singlehandedly killed a troll. Next to that, having a bodyguard isn't hard to believe at all. I mean, even Malfoy has bodyguards."

Hermione's face contorted with rage. "Are you comparing me to—"

"NO!" Harry cut her off, "I'm just saying that's what it looks like. I don't like it either; people have more reasons to stare at me now."

Hermione seemed mollified by that.

"So," Neville said, clearly trying to change the subject, "what do you think's for lunch?"

* * *

After lunch, in the library, Blaise came to visit. Harry was actually mildly surprised that it had taken him so long.

"Hello Blaise," Harry greeted, Neville's warning coming to mind unbidden.

"I won't waste time. What really happened?"

Harry was a bit startled by the bluntness. "I assume you're asking about the troll?" Blaise didn't speak. "…right, well what really happened was that I ran into the troll after trying to follow the rest of Slytherin." Harry had found out earlier that they'd been going to the Hufflepuff common room, which was inviting enough to accommodate as many guests as necessary. "I lost sight of the group, and ended up on the second floor. Then I ran into the troll."

"And you really did kill it like—like that?"

"How does everyone even know about that?" Harry asked, "I thought the professors said they were going to clean it up."

Blaise's eyes bugged out, "You DID kill it!"

Harry realized his mistake too late. "NO! The professors did, Blaise! Think, I'm a first year, how on earth could I have done something like that? I just want to know why the professors didn't clean up after themselves."

Blaise was silent for a moment too long. "They did clean it up. But in doing so, they were seen transporting the corpse out of the castle, gaping hole and all. And with the extra thirty points in Slytherin's hourglass…"

"Of course they jumped to conclusions," Harry muttered. It frustrated him to no end, but there was little he could do. "Well, now you know the real story. I barely found the professors in time to get away with my life. I really wish you could tell the others about this, it'd help to have a source they actually believe."

Blaise looked at him oddly. "And in potions? Something about fame and excess?"

Hermione spoke up, "Snape told Harry that he hated Harry's fame. I told Snape to beware of excess falsehood."

Blaise looked at her in disbelief. "You interrupted one of the most influential people in the castle to tell him he had his story wrong? I have a hard time believing that, Granger."

Harry grabbed Hermione's book bag, and pulled out the guide they'd been using. "Check for yourself then. I didn't realize Hermione had been memorizing this, but it's what we've been using to translate the language of flowers."

Blaise looked at the book, something like shock on his face. Then his expression went suddenly blank. "I have my own sources, thank you." He paused, looking around. "I think it's time I left. Everyone will be talking after your stunt in potions, and I can't very well be absent from the conversations for long." He left without another word.

"So," Neville said, "he's your ally in Slytherin." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Harry replied, "and he has been useful. Before you came along, he was the only reference we had for the wizarding world."

Neville shook his head, but didn't say anything more on the subject.

"So," Hermione began brightly, "who's up for that Charms homework?"

Harry worked with Hermione and Neville for several hours, before making an excuse and preparing for quidditch practice. He had a game coming up, on top of everything else. This mess could hardly have come at a worse time.

* * *

 **A/N: This is a point I feel like clarifying (in the pursuit of a mysterious purpose). Anything that hasn't had a reason to change is still 100% cannon. This is why some of you have noticed direct quotes from Rowling.**

 **This is also especially relevant in this chapter, for one specific reason that I won't share with you right now. I even put in a few red herrings, to help throw you all off the scent.**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**

 **P.S. So, for those of you checking, the next chapter may be up to a week late. I'll explain later. I do apologize, things have happened.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So, you may recall that a few chapters ago, I said I was running short on planned material, and couldn't think of what to write next. This was mostly a lie, to add to the uncertainty about the troll fight. It was not, however, entirely untrue. It was actually more true than I realized, because it turned out that when I was writing the actual troll scene I changed the course of events significantly about three times. My plans now resemble complete nonsense in regards to that scene, and there are two different sidenotes in my notes to remind me that those notes are basically a waste of space now. Notes.**

 **ANYWAY, the real point is that I really didn't have anything planned after the troll fight, so I apologize if this chapter is a bit late. (Very late. Yeah, life happens and inspiration varies with age. If it's any consolation, updates should be far more regular now.) I've been planning out the next several chapters, and in addition to that I have school which drains my time and sometimes even motivation. So in short, I'm making a few excuses in the hopes that you all will be kind and understanding. And, because offering imaginary cookies probably won't help, I made this chapter just a bit longer than usual.**

 **Okay, so, I didn't. Yet. But I'm going to, just watch. I mean, I haven't even written it yet. But I will. And it will be long.**

* * *

After a few days, Harry got used to the stares and whispers and stares that had followed him around ever since the troll incident. It was a bit easier, because it wasn't so much the fact that people were staring and whispering as it was that they weren't going to lengths to hide it anymore. Personally, he still thought it was a bit absurd that defeating a troll was what helped people get over their shyness around him, but apparently he was the only one. It was nice that people didn't look so scared of him anymore, even if a large portion of the school did continue to act quite frightened. Of course, people getting over their fears had its downsides, too. One of those downsides was named Ron Weasley.

The day after the troll incident, the boy had ambushed Harry after dinner and demanded a word in private. Harry had obliged, mostly out of curiosity. He'd heard quite a bit about the youngest Weasley from his friends, and most of it wasn't good. He wasn't really a bully, but he wasn't nice to anyone who sympathized with Slytherin, either, which included nearly everyone in Gryffindor that Harry knew well enough to speak to.

When they reached an empty classroom, the other boy opened the door and said, "Snakes first," gesturing inside. The sentiment irked Harry, but he let it pass.

Once inside, he asked, "So, why are we here? If you want an insider account of the troll fight, I'm really not the person to go to."

The boy's face flashed briefly with several different emotions. Harry saw confusion, anger, frustration, and a few more that he didn't catch. "Potter, the troll is only part of it. What game are you playing here?"

It was Harry's turn to be confused. "Game?"

"Yes, Potter. I know you're up to something. First you make friends with people who should rightfully hate you, then you seem to be defending them from Snape, and then you go off and fight a troll just minutes after _my own brothers_ put you on a pedestal at the Halloween feast. I haven't got a clue what you're trying to accomplish, but I don't like it! What game are you playing?" The last part came out as more of a demand than a question.

"Well," Harry began, "I'm not sure what you're trying to get at, but I'm certainly not planning anything. I'm friends with Hermione and Neville because I sat with them on the train, and Hermione actually helped me ease some of the tension I had about Slytherin. They're both nice people, and there's not really much more to it. And that business at the feast was probably as much a prank on me as anything else. The twins…I'm still not entirely sure why they did that. They're your brothers, you should ask them."

"You expect me to believe that?" the redhead exploded, "And how do you explain the troll, or your little arrangement with Snape?"

Harry was surprised by the boy's outburst. "Well…Professor Snape just doesn't come around my station much in class; it's not really an arrangement. And I didn't kill the troll, the professors did! I don't care if no one believes me, all I did was run away from the stupid troll, I barely even survived!" Realizing that he'd been raising him voice, Harry stopped abruptly. Ron had a shocked look on his face.

After a lengthy pause, the redhead spoke up, "You…didn't fight the troll?" His voice was filled with disbelief.

"How is that so hard for people to believe?" Harry demanded. "I'm eleven years old! I barely know how to properly hex someone, let alone do whatever it was Professor Flitwick did to that troll!"

"Professor Flitwick did that to the troll?"

"Yes! I keep trying to tell people, but they just don't listen!"

The boy's face became thoughtful, "I guess it would make a bit of sense…he's supposedly a former dueling champion. He might have picked up a few tricks in his heyday…"

"Whereas the only place I could have learned something like that is from the muggles I grew up with, the school library, or one of the professors. What are the chances that the professors would leave a book with a spell like that lying around, let alone teach it to me?"

"Well, they might have—" Ron tried, but Harry cut him off.

"Why? Because I'm some big celebrity? I was sent to live with muggles for ten years, I think they're more interested in keeping me hidden than teaching me dangerous magic."

"That still doesn't explain you and Snape. And I find it hard to believe that my brothers were just pranking you," the boy pointed out

"Like I said, you could just ask them, they're your brothers. I'm not too sure what they were up to either," Harry replied. "And to be honest, I'm not sure why Professor Snape treats me so differently. It could be because he's a former death eater, but I heard that Dumbledore vouched for him personally."

"So you think you should be getting the usual favoritism?" Ron asked bitterly.

"It's not my fault he gives preferential treatment!"

At that comment, the redhead suddenly looked deeply at Harry, stopping him in his tracks. "No," he admitted eventually, "I guess it isn't. You even help some people avoid that." He paused, considering something, "But that doesn't mean I have to like you."

"I guess not," Harry said, "But you could at least lay off my friends. It's not their fault no one will defend you in Potions class."

The other boy grunted in what might have been agreement, before turning and opening the door. "Just…" he trailed off, looking lost. "Oh forget it," he mumbled, walking out the door and leaving Harry alone in the room to try and figure out what he'd meant.

When he brought it up with Hermione and Neville the next day, they weren't too sure either.

"I mean, he's a bit of a git, but I think that's mostly just because he doesn't like you," Neville offered. "He's never really given me as much cold shoulder as Hermione, and I wasn't really hanging out with you until after you publicly proved yourself capable of being a decent person, in Ron's eyes at least."

Hermione nodded in agreement, "Yes, although he'd never really taken to either of us since we applauded you at the opening feast. Personally I think that he might have been more motivated to find out what was going on with his brothers. After all, we've been hanging out in public for weeks now, and he hasn't confronted you before."

"Well, to be honest, he seemed more interested in the troll and Professor Snape than anything else," Harry said, "He only mentioned his brothers once or twice."

"Hmmm," Hermione hummed in thought.

"Maybe you could ask them, they might know what's up with their brother," Neville suggested.

Harry winced, "Yeah, they might, but I'm not so sure where I stand with them, either. On one hand they're the merciless pranksters with a habit of targeting Slytherins, on the other hand they've helped us out a bit. And then there's the feast, where they raised me over the crowd, probably as a weird prank. And they seem to think I'm some kind of prankster myself, which I don't really see."

"Yeah, I'm not sure I'd really know how to start a conversation with them either," Neville said.

"Maybe if you started out by asking what they were up to at the feast?" Hermione suggested, "I know I'm a bit curious about that myself."

"Maybe," Harry allowed, "But I still don't feel comfortable talking to them. I still kinda want to punch them as hard as I can. And who knows whether they actually know what their brother is thinking?"

"You never know, Harry, it might just be worth a try," Hermione said.

But despite his friends' advice, Harry never approached the twins. He didn't really want to, and always seemed to be busy with something else anyway. When he wasn't hanging out with Hermione and Neville, who he'd started exploring the castle and grounds with in an effort to get out of the library more, he was practicing for the upcoming quidditch match.

Marcus had even made him check out _Quidditch Through the Ages_ from the library to study. It was the same book that Hermione had studied and frequently regurgitated to him before flying lessons, so he was relatively familiar with it already. In addition, most of the important rules had been explained thoroughly to him during practice. Regardless, he did learn a few interesting tidbits. There were seven hundred ways of committing a foul in quidditch, and all of them had happened during one match in 1473. Amusingly, or perhaps alarmingly, referees seemed to vanish and turn up in the Sahara Desert from time to time. Also worryingly, the seeker apparently seemed to be the victim of the most serious accidents, even if deaths were rare. This seemed to be taken even more seriously that football was in the muggle world.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville tended visited Hagrid once a week, usually on Friday afternoons. It had been the realization that this wasn't enough time spent outside of the library which had led to their exploration of the castle and the grounds. But a week after the troll fiasco, Harry had learned something interesting during a visit with Hagrid. The conversation had been innocent enough, at first. They'd been discussing the possible reasons Professor Snape might have been limping around, something they'd noticed the day before.

"You don't suppose it could have been a potions accident?" Hermione pondered aloud, "I mean, it would make sense, he must work with dangerous potions on a regular basis."

"I find it hard to believe that Professor Snape would mess up that badly on a potion," Harry countered, "He's a Potions Master, and he was the youngest ever to earn the title. He's actually a bit famous for it."

"Well maybe he was helping move the troll and it fell on him or something," Neville suggested.

"You know, come to think of it," Harry said, straining to remember, "I don't think the he was there when the other Professors caught up with the troll. Maybe he was off checking on the Slytherin common rooms or something."

"Or maybe," Neville continued with a grin, "he ran into that Cerberus the twins found!"

Despite Neville's joking expression, Hagrid spluttered, nearly spitting out his tea as he demanded, "How do you know about Fluffy? Yeh kids were suppos' ter stay away from that corridor!"

 _"Fluffy?"_ Neville and Harry asked in unison.

"The Cerberus has a _name?"_ Hermione asked incredulously.

"Yeah—he's mine—bought him off a Greek chappie in the pub las' year—I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the—" Hagrid very suddenly stopped talking. "That's not the point though. Are yeh saying those Weasley twins ran into him?"

"Well," Hermione began, "no one's quite sure whether to believe them or not, but they came running into the common room about a month back saying something about a three-headed dog. We thought it was just another prank until they said they'd been exploring the third floor corridor that's out of bounds. Even then, until you mentioned him, we thought they could've been doing it for the attention."

"Did you say he was guarding something?" Harry asked, "Does that have anything to do with that thing you took out of the vault on my birthday?"

Hagrid clammed up instantly. "No more questions 'bout that. That's top secret, that is."

"Wait a minute, Hagrid," Hermione said, "Did Snape get attacked by the Cerberus? Surely they would have told you about that."

"Oh, er…" Hagrid stammered, "That's…that's none of your business, that is."

"Hagrid, you only act like this when you're trying to hide something," Harry pointed out.

"It's not my place ter say! This is between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel!" Hagrid said heatedly.

"Oh," Harry said, feeling a little bit guilty for trying to get Hagrid to spill someone else's beans. The silence stretched out in the cabin.

"Sooo…" Neville said, "What about the upcoming quidditch match? Who do you think's gonna win?"

And with that, the conversation started flowing again. Harry kept quiet for most of it though, hiding what would have been uncanny knowledge of Slytherin's strategy and plans for the match. After the conversation concluded (with Gryffindor as the favorite, to Harry's discomfort) and the trio was walking back up to the castle, Harry finally asked the question that had been bothering him.

"What's got Hagrid acting so cagey? He's never that reluctant to talk about anything."

"Well I'm sure the Cerberus has absolutely nothing to do with it," Hermione said.

"That's kinda what I'm talking about though," Harry said, "Normally he'd want to talk all about something interesting like that. He was even telling us all about how he got it until he mentioned that it was guarding something for Dumbledore."

"Wait, so you think that this secret stuff is worth knowing?" Neville clarified.

"I'm a bit curious what's worth putting a Cerberus in a school. That just seems a bit crazy to me. Hagrid once said that Hogwarts was the safest place to keep something, even safer than Gringotts, and there's still some extra security necessary. What's so valuable that it merits that much protection, and more importantly, who are they trying to protect it from?"

"Hogwarts _School_ of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the safest place to keep something?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Of course it is," Neville said, "It's a fortress. When the founders built it, they knew that anywhere so much knowledge was kept would be incredibly sought-after, so they built it to last. Nowadays the country's unified, and there's no one that's really being kept out, but it used to be the most valuable fortress in all the British Isles."

"If no one's being kept out, how safe is it really?"

"Well no one's being denied access anymore, but you still need direct approval from the Headmaster or the board of governors to get onto the grounds. The wards are well maintained."

"Still," Harry pointed out, "there's hundreds of students wandering around. Surely that reduces the security?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, "That's why they need the Cerberus! It's to keep the students out! The wards keep everyone except students and teachers out, and the Cerberus keeps the students from getting into whatever it is that's being guarded. It makes perfect sense!"

"Yeah. Yeah, that does make sense," Harry said. "Still, what's important enough that they'd put a Cerberus in a school full of kids just to keep it safe? Surely there's somewhere better to keep it safe?"

"Wait a minute," Hermione said, "Remember when you introduced me to Hagrid? You were reading that newspaper about a Gringotts break-in from the same vault Hagrid had visited. Even if it was completely unrelated, that still proves that Gringotts wasn't safe. Can you think of anywhere else they might be able to keep something like that, Neville?"

Neville's face clouded with thought, "Well, there's Azkaban, the prison. No one ever wants to go there because of the dementors. But I don't think they'd keep something so close to the prisoners if they were trying to keep it away from people, even with the dementors. And maybe they didn't trust the dementors around it, either. Or maybe there was some other reason."

"It would help if we just knew what they were guarding," Harry mused, "Then we might have a better idea why it's so important, and how they might guard it."

"Well," Neville said, "if it's between Dumbledore and this Nicholas Flamel bloke, maybe it belongs to Flamel. Why do I feel like I've heard of him?"

"Maybe we can find something about him in the library?" Hermione suggested.

But despite spending the rest of the afternoon searching, none of them could find a mention of Nicholas Flamel. He simply wasn't in any of the books about famous wizards that they could find. They tried _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century, Notable Names of our Time,_ and even a few about recent discoveries and developments in magic to see whether his name would come up. It didn't, and the sheer size of the library became quite suddenly depressing. Finding something on Flamel might take years.

Of course, thought Harry as he packed up to leave for quidditch practice, he might also have to worry about his friends' reaction to him playing seeker and not telling them. And with the way research was going, he might just have to deal with that first.

* * *

Harry looked around at the stands nervously. The morning had been a bit of a blur, with a few moments standing out. The odd looks Hermione and Neville had given him as he told them he wouldn't be watching the match. The slight nods from the Weasley twins. The slap on the shoulder from Marcus that had jarred him from his thoughts just before they had to walk out onto the field.

And now he was standing in front of what seemed to be the entire school, nervously clutching a Nimbus Two Thousand and wondering how long it would take before someone recognized him. His nerves weren't helped by the intimidating looks the Gryffindor team was giving him. He was trying to ignore them by focusing on his shoes, but it wasn't working very well.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," Madam Hooch said. The referee was giving Marcus and Harry dirty looks as she said this. Harry supposed this was fair, as he wasn't technically supposed to be playing, but that didn't help his nerves any.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Harry clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up into the air.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match. Thankfully, Professor McGonagall was close at hand to keep him on track.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's. Speaking of, has anyone seen the Slytherin seeker? Best kept secret of the century that one, we still don't know who it is…"

As the commentary's focus turned to Harry, he attempted to shrink on his broom to avoid notice. Fortunately, Marcus intercepted a pass and nearly scored, distracting the crowd. The plan was for Harry to stay out of the game and look for the snitch, unless the chasers needed some help. Marcus would signal Harry if that were the case, so Harry kept an eye on Marcus as he flew over the game, looking for the snitch. Not even a minute later, Harry saw the signal, a swift unnecessary sloth grip roll, and he looked up field to see Angelina Johnson, one of the Gryffindor chasers on a scoring run. Remembering both Marcus's advice and the strict rules he'd read in _Quidditch Through the Ages,_ Harry knew he'd have to be careful about this. He saw that both of the other Gryffindor chasers were indisposed, and so bided his time. Then, just as Angelina began to slow for her shot, he dove downwards, aiming ever so slightly to her left. He breezed past her just as she was releasing her shot, and the throw went wild, only to be caught by Adrian Pucey, who had been expecting the wild throw. As Harry flew back up above the game, he looked at Marcus again. The older boy gave him a single nod of acknowledgement. Great. That meant they'd need his help just to keep up.

Ignoring Lee Jordan's rather biased commentary, ("and the Slytherin seeker introduces himself with a fittingly dirty move—surprising move, I swear that's what I meant Professor,") Harry continued flying over the match, now looking for opportunities to interfere with the Gryffindor chasers, as well as the snitch and any sudden moves from the Gryffindor seeker, a fifth-year named Bryant. According to Marcus, Bryant wasn't terribly good, and Gryffindor usually relied on their chasers to make up for his lacking skills. Harry believed that, Bryant hadn't even caught onto his dive that had disrupted Angelina quickly enough to follow him, let alone get ahead. If Harry had been going for the snitch, he'd have won the game.

Seeing another opportunity, Harry dove down right as Alicia passed the Quaffle to Katie Bell, barely missing the quaffle as he swooped behind it. He heard Lee commentate a fumble, quickly picked up by Slytherin, and knew he'd been successful.

After this, the game fell into a sort of rhythm. Harry would fly over the match, high enough to dodge any bludgers that came his way with relative ease. Any time he saw a pass of goal shot that he could throw off without actually getting between the chaser and the Quaffle, he would dive in. It seemed to be working, as Slytherin began to edge out Gryffindor on the scoreboard.

Harry wasn't sure how long it had been when it happened. On perhaps his tenth dive, however, he flew nearly right past the commentator's box, and at last everyone knew who the mysterious Slytherin seeker was.

"Bleedin' hell, that was Harry Potter!"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor, but did you hear that, people? _Harry Potter_ is the Slytherin seeker, and a first year to boot! I smell some Slytherin shenanigans—"

"Mr. Jordan, I do believe that Slytherin just scored," Professor McGonagall interrupted.

"Oh—right, er…ten points to Slytherin. And following that shocking revelation, _Harry Potter_ seems to be going a bit wild. Still getting over that one…but he's not, he's just done the over-under on the Gryffindor chasers arrowhead formation, breaking them up and managing to dodge a bludger by one of the Weasley twins, setting it on Alicia Spinnet. She dodges around it, but boy, if you thought he could fly before, you should see him now; he's on fire! He's just pulled off the Eirersatz maneuver near perfectly, and the whole of Gryffindor team seems to be in chaos!"

Perhaps not the whole team, Harry noted. Fred and George, who would have known this was coming, were still doing just fine. The chasers, however, were in disarray, and Oliver Wood, the keeper, let the Slytherin goal in with uncharacteristically little resistance. Bryant was hovering above the game, staring slack-jawed at Harry. Marcus had been right to bank on the surprise factor of his reveal to earn a few points. As the chasers recovered their formation and everyone's collective jaws scraped off of the floor, Slytherin scored again, bringing them up to 80-40. Marcus had revealed Harry to the team in the locker room beforehand so that they wouldn't fall prey to his strategy, and now the balance of the game had shifted. As time went on, Harry caught Marcus shaking his head at him ever so slightly, indicating that he could safely back off and focus on searching for the snitch. He would still interrupt any passes and formations that he could, but he was officially off of chaser-chaser duty, as he liked to think of it.

Of course, this was only because Marcus knew that Harry could find the snitch in the time that the distraction of his identity had bought the Slytherin chasers. It was time for Harry to earn his place on the team. He began to circle the pitch at a decent pace, searching for the telltale flash of gold that would end the game. He had to dodge a few bludgers from the Weasley twins, but they soon realized that he'd stopped interfering with their chasers, and began to leave him alone. Harry noticed absently that those chasers were beginning to pull together and start to give his team some trouble. But then his gaze was caught by something decidedly more interesting. He dove right into the chaser formation, zeroing in on the flash of gold that he'd spotted between the three girls. He noticed Bryant straining to catch him; the older boy had noticed that Harry wasn't diving in his usual disruptive fashion. But he was too slow. Stretching his hand out, Harry snatched the snitch out of the air, and sat up to bring his broom to a stop.

Only his broom didn't slow. The ground rushed up to meet him, and then everything went black.

* * *

Wakefulness was slow to return to Harry. At first, he was nothing more than a peaceful consciousness floating in a pleasant black void. He quickly realized, however, that this was in fact merely a soft bed. But he didn't feel like moving to figure out much more just yet. The bed was quite soft unlike most of the places he slept. In fact, it was fairly safe to say that he was at Hogwarts, the only place he'd ever known with soft beds.

Hogwarts…there was something important about that, wasn't there? Something about a game, maybe?

Oh, right. The quidditch match.

The quidditch match! Harry suddenly up, his eyes finally opening. He was temporarily overcome by the brightness of a sunny room. Why was everything so white?

"Good morning, Mr. Sunshine," came a sarcastic voice from his left. He squinted at the blackish blur. "Your glasses are on the bedside table, Potter." Harry felt around, found the glasses, and put them on. A familiar face in school robes came into focus.

"Blaise?"

"Well, no serious head injury then, you still recognize me."

"What are you doing here? I might have expected Hermione and maybe Neville, but I thought you had to keep your distance."

"They had a class, and Madam Pomfrey wanted someone here when you woke up," Blaise said, as if that explained everything.

"And that someone was you? I thought I was socially unacceptable?"

"You've been out for two days, Harry. A lot has changed."

"TWO DAYS?" Harry knew he'd hit the ground pretty hard, but two _days?_

"Indeed. And in that time, you have become…a complicated matter in Slytherin. Before, everything was fairly simple. You were clever enough, but you were also politically opposed to nearly the whole house on general principal. Now, you're the star of the quidditch team, and also responsible for our current sizable lead in the house cup. That, added to the incident with the troll, has thrown everyone's initial impressions of you into doubt."

"So we won the match?" Harry asked eagerly.

Blaise rolled his eyes, "Of course we did. We were 50 points up when you caught the snitch. The only thing no one can figure out is why you didn't pull out of that dive."

Harry thought back to the moment before the crash. "I tried to. I was braking and everything, but my broom didn't respond." Harry gasped in realization, "Is my broom alright?"

"It's fine, Potter," Blaise said, raising his hands defensively, "Professor Snape checked it thoroughly himself. He said that the braking charm had been interfered with, the broom itself is still intact."

"Someone jinxed my broom?"

"Apparently. It should have been nearly impossible to pull off; brooms are deliberately very hard to mess with."

As Blaise let that sink in, Harry heard a door open. Looking to the sound, he saw an elderly matron in a white apron approaching the bed. Madam Pomfrey, he assumed.

"Oh, you're up. I tell you, it's a miracle you survived that fall at all, going as fast as you were. I'll never understand why anyone would play such a dangerous game!" The witch proceeded to wave her wand over Harry in a series of complex motions. "Well, you are healing better than I could have hoped, so maybe you know something I don't." Madam Pomfrey fiddled with a few bottles at Harry's bedside, picking one up and leaving two. "Drink that, and you should be out of here by dinnertime." She turned and left. Harry picked up the bottle she'd left him.

"Fair warning, they taste like vomit."

Harry screwed up his face. "Great." Popping the cork and pinching his nose, Harry downed the potion in one gulp. It wasn't quite as bad as Blaise had said, but it still tasted awful. "Eugh. You weren't kidding."

"Fortunately, they do work. At any rate, I should probably get going, I have a class soon. A word of advice before I leave though, you should try not to spurn too many attempts at friendship from within our house. Many people will be seeking your attention soon, and you shouldn't discount them out of hand. They may not be pleasant people, but as my mother has always said, it's not the pleasant people that run the world." With that, Blaise left Harry to his thoughts. It seemed a lot had happened while he was out.

A few minutes later, Hermione and Neville walked in. At the sight of him sitting up, Hermione squeaked, "Harry!" and ran over to him. "You're awake! You had us worried with that crash, you hit the ground so hard you're lucky to be alive! Are you feeling all right?"

Actually, Harry was beginning to feel like his front was one massive bruise. Apparently two days in bed hadn't quite fixed everything. "Mostly," he said, "although it does still hurt a bit."

"And why didn't you tell us you were the Slytherin seeker? I thought it was strange enough that you weren't going to the game, but then we found out you were _playing_ in the game. And then you crashed!"

Harry chuckled lightly, "Hermione, slow down. I did say that I wouldn't be watching the match, I never said I wasn't going. And I didn't tell you I was playing because it was an extremely well-kept secret that I was playing at all. Marcus probably would have skinned me alive if I'd let the secret out."

Neville's face had adopted a thoughtful air. "I suppose that makes a bit of sense," he said, "if they'd known it was you who was playing, our teammates could have watched your flying lessons to get a sense for your style."

"Well, there was that, but I think if I'm on the team I'm exempt from flying lessons. The real reason Marcus kept who I was so secret was so that we'd have an ace up our sleeve. You saw the chaos I caused at the match just by Lee figuring out who I was. Without that, it might have taken a lot longer to catch the snitch. Bryant may not be the best seeker, but Marcus still didn't want to risk him catching the snitch while I helped out the chasers if he could help it."

"Whatever the case, you flew well out there, Harry," Hermione said, "and even if I'm going to have to earn a heap of points to catch back up to Slytherin, you should be proud of yourself. Just…try not to crash next time, alright?"

"Actually…about that," Harry said, "I think someone tampered with my broom. I was talking to Blaise earlier, and he agrees with me. Apparently Professor Snape checked it out, and someone had tampered with the braking charm."

"But Harry, brooms are really hard to tamper with," Neville said, "only a professor could have interfered with your broom. What professor would be out to kill you?"

"I don't know. But whoever it was, they almost succeeded. Madam Pomfrey said I was lucky to be alive."

"If I didn't know any better, I might think it was Snape," Hermione said. "He's a former death eater, and he's the only staff member that I can think of with any reason to kill Harry. But at the same time, he was the one who was out on the field first, making sure you were alive and checking your broom. And then there's the business with your mum that he told us about. It just doesn't add up."

"Well," Neville said, "there's always the old standby: when in doubt, blame the Defense professor."

"Professor Quirrel? Why would he want Harry dead?

"Well, it's just a rule of thumb, really, but usually when something at Hogwarts has gone wrong, it all leads back to the Defense professor. They say the job's cursed, and not a single teacher has managed to hold the position for more than a year. Over the years, a lot of them have caused some trouble before leaving. There was one when I was five that nearly blew up the whole castle. I guess people just assume that it's the Defense professor's fault at this point."

"But Quirrel?" Harry asked incredulously. "He can barely string two words together. I'd say he's bound to get fired for incompetence as a teacher, not trying to kill one of the students."

"It's just something people say. Still, I can't think of anyone who'd want you dead on the staff. I wouldn't put it past some of your housemates to try something, but even the seventh years shouldn't have been able to pull off something like deactivating a specific charm on a broom."

No one seemed to know what to say to that. After a few minutes, Madam Pomfrey came back out of her office. "Alright, that's enough visiting, Mr. Potter here needs his rest. He should be out within the day, so go about your business, he'll be along soon enough!"

"We'll be in the Library after classes, Harry. See you around."

And with that, Hermione and Neville left.

"Now see about getting that rest, young man. You should still be quite exhausted, you've been on some strong potions. Once you've slept those off, you may go, but NO strenuous activate for at least two days, do you understand?" Harry nodded. "Good. Now get some rest." Madam Pomfrey returned to her office.

She'd been right that he was tired, a nap didn't sound like such a bad idea. Laying back down on the bed, Harry let his eyes drift closed as sleep reclaimed him.

* * *

When he woke up, Harry found his school robes folded neatly on the bedside table. The clock over the door read 4:30, so Harry headed down to the library. Just like they'd said, they were there, in their usual spot, books open and heads down.

"We really need to get out more," Harry stated. Two heads snapped up.

"Harry! You're out!" Hermione seemed a touch flustered.

"Hey, relax, Madam Pomfrey said no strenuous activity for a few days. Still, I was serious. We spend nearly all our spare time in this place. We need to find something to do that isn't studying."

"We play chess," Hermione pointed out.

"And we've been exploring the castle," Neville added.

"True, but how often do we actually get out and do something that isn't studying? Hermione, I know I said I wanted to catch up, but I kinda feel like we've caught up. Don't you think we could relax some?"

"Harry, we're still barely keeping up in our classes, and we still don't know hardly anything about wizarding culture. How could we relax?"

Harry sighed. "Hermione, your definition of barely keeping up means you don't always get a perfect grade. None of the other students are doing nearly as well as you. And don't you think that getting out and talking to people would be a better way to get a handle on wizarding culture?" This had been bothering Harry for a while, really. He was really starting to enjoy studying and playing with Hermione and Neville, but he didn't feel like spending all their time cooped up in the library was doing them much good. He was getting teased about it, for one. But more importantly, those hecklers had a point. He wasn't getting out much, and they were all hiding from the outside world. And considering that Blaise, who was socially savvy if nothing else, had advised him to heed some of the inevitable social advances of the Slytherins, it seemed like a good time to come out of his shell. But he wasn't going to leave his friends behind if he did.

It took a bit of convincing, but Harry managed to convince Hermione that less studying would be acceptable, and Neville that hanging out in places with more people wouldn't hurt. By the time they headed to dinner, Harry was confident that they would at least try to socialize, given the chance. Then they entered the Great Hall.

At first, no one really noticed Harry. But as he waved his customary goodbye to Hermione and Neville, he noticed the first few eyes following him, followed by a hoard of whispers and a pack of turned heads. He tried to act natural. He went to the end of the Slytherin table and sat down in his usual spot. Then he noticed that he had company. Malfoy, Blaise, and a few older boys that Harry didn't really know were sitting at the end of the table, waiting for him. Not really knowing how to react to this development, Harry sat down and began to put food on his plate.

"Well, Potter, it seems we misjudged you yet again," a smug-sounding voice said. Turning, Harry saw it was Malfoy who had spoken.

"Who would have thought, Malfoy, that raining pranks and judgment on a person would result in them acting atypically?"

Malfoy's expression flickered briefly from its false pleasantness. Blaise spoke up. "You have a point, of course. But can you blame us for drawing hasty conclusions? You are Harry Potter. And not two days after you arrived, you had already begun making friends with a…muggleborn from Gryffindor. Those were hardly any different from our expectations of you. The only thing you'd done that interested us was get sorted into the wrong house."

Harry raised his eyebrows, "You think I don't belong in Slytherin?" He wasn't sure where Blaise was going with this.

"We didn't, but as he said, we were mistaken," one of the older boys cut in. "I am Leeroy Angelica, by the way." He held out his hand. Harry shook it. "We thought that you were nothing more than a confused blood traitor. When you…got into trouble with the troll, we figured that perhaps there was more going on than met the eye, but nothing that really subverted our expectations. Imagine our surprise when we find that you can keep a secret well enough to please Professor Snape himself."

"What does he have to do with anything?" Harry asked.

"Oh, come on. You've been out for two days, and the cat's out of the bag. Professor Snape and Flint organized a plan to win the quidditch match and hinged its success on a first year's ability to keep quiet. I rather suspect they were surprised when you actually did." Seeing the offended look on Harry's face, the boy hastily added, "It's just good sense to have a plan in reserve any time you have to rely on someone else. It's certainly nothing personal. But then you kept quiet about the whole thing. That shows potential. Potential that will get you quite far in Slytherin, if you know the right people."

There it was. Harry had known as soon as he saw _Draco Malfoy_ of all people ready to sit next to him that this was the attempt at 'friendship' Blaise had warned him about.

"I imagine that I might find myself surrounded by those 'right people' if I were to get myself acquainted with my new dining companions?" Harry glanced around at the boys sitting around him. To his surprise, he noticed a girl he hadn't before, Daphne Greengrass. He knew her name, but not much else about her.

Leeroy grinned, "You catch on quite well. I really don't know why we didn't see it before. You certainly play a convincing role. I was actually convinced that you were friends with that…muggleborn and the blood traitor."

"I am!" Harry exclaimed, before catching a warning look from Blaise. Thinking quickly, he added, "Hermione is probably the smartest witch in my year. She's the reason I've been doing so well on my schoolwork. And Neville…well I did save him from a rather nasty fall. He's a loyal friend. You might have noticed that even before term started, he was one of two Gryffindors willing to clap for me when I got sorted into Slytherin."

Leeroy's face grew thoughtful even as Malfoy looked completely baffled. Blaise was more composed, but he'd already known what Harry had just said.

"Impressive, Potter," Leeroy said eventually, "You play more angles than I realized." What did he mean by that? "All the more reason you should get to know us. We can offer you quite a bit of help, should you ever have need of us."

Remembering Neville's warning about Blaise, Harry asked, "And what's in it for you?"

To Harry's surprise, Daphne Greengrass interjected, "I told you he was smarter than you thought. We need to treat him like one of our own. He was almost definitely raised among wizards, and smart ones at that." She turned to face Harry. "What's in it for us, Potter is that you are you. On top of that, you've managed to get the _Weasley twins_ of all people to raise you above their head as savior of the world. You can befriend people we'd probably never talk to."

Harry thought about that. It certainly sounded reasonable. But it also niggled at something he couldn't put his finger on. "I certainly can't think of any problems with that," Harry said.

"But?" Leeroy questioned.

"But _I_ was the one you wouldn't talk to until two days ago. I don't even know you." Even as he said it, he realized what that niggling feeling was. He had been the 'enemy' that no one would talk to. But Blaise, a fairly neutral party with a head start, had talked to him anyway. He'd helped Harry with no clear reasoning, or none that he'd stated. And Blaise was also a part of this discussion, even though Harry had never gotten the sense that his family was particularly politically inclined. And now that Harry was the 'neutral' party, he was being asked to make friends with the political elite of Slytherin House. Harry looked speculatively at Blaise. Had his one Slytherin 'friend' been through another version of this conversation already?

Harry was so caught up in that thought that he missed half of what Leeroy said in response. "…know that hard feelings are foolish."

"All the same," Harry said, shaking it off for now, "I think I'll reserve judgment. You aren't typical bullies, but I don't really know what you are yet, either." Leeroy opened his mouth to speak, but Harry didn't let him, "I'm not just going to forget the past few months. And I don't even know all of your names."

Swiftly picking up Leeroy's slack, Daphne jumped in. "This is Blaine Anderson," she indicated a thickset blond with a bowl cut, "and this is Cryllian Debazo," she indicated a thin, dark haired boy.

"Well, now that we know each other's names, let's eat." With that, Harry began cutting up and eating his roast duck. After a few minutes, the conversation started back up, this time about nothing of any significance. Class work and relationship woes and the quality of Harry's performance in the quidditch match. He blushed at all the compliments he received, but otherwise kept his comments to a minimum. It was clear that he was no longer required to talk about any serious matters, and he was trying to hide how mentally exhausted the earlier conversation had been. Coming up with something to say on the spot without lying, and making sure all the time that he didn't alienate anyone was quite exhausting. And to make it worse, he wasn't sure he'd be able to tell if he did cause offense, these people were so well trained. After dinner disappeared fro their plates, Harry excused himself from the table and headed off to the library curfew wasn't for another hour, and he wanted to talk to Hermione and Neville before then. After a few minutes, they showed up, worried looks on their faces. When they saw how slumped and exhausted he was in his chair, their faces only grew more worried.

"Harry, are you alright?" Neville asked.

"'m fine," he managed. "Just had an interesting conversation."

"We noticed," Hermione said, "we were worried when we saw how many people were waiting for you."

Harry grinned. "Well, there's good news: I'm no longer the outcast of Slytherin. The 'children of the political elite' have basically just said they want to be 'friends.' They probably mean that they want to use my rather impressive ability to keep a secret and my friendships within Gryffindor to spy for them, but it's something."

"They WHAT?"

"Relax, Hermione, I'm pretty sure that's what Blaise was doing, too. He can't have told them everything, because he knew I was raised by muggles and they didn't, but I'd be surprised if he wasn't using his place as my 'friend' or whatever he was to get in with the crowd."

"He WHAT? Harry this is exactly what I was warning you about!"

Harry sighed. "Neville I know. And I was careful around Blaise, because I didn't really trust him, either. But it's not like we didn't get anything out of it. He was actually pretty nice, and he even taught us spells and stuff. I'm not going to hold it against him."

That sat for several seconds before Hermione eventually said, "If you're sure. But that doesn't sit right with me, he lied to us."

Harry hesitated. There was a very easy answer to that accusation, but he wasn't sure he wanted to say it out loud. Oh well, better to get it out of the way early. "Hermione, _we_ don't sit right with a lot of people. And…Blaise didn't lie to us any more than I've lied to you. I told you I wouldn't be watching the match, you assumed that meant I wouldn't be going. He told us having the ear of Harry Potter was a benefit of our relationship, we assumed that was all. Heck, we didn't even assume that was all! We knew he must be after something else, but we still talked to him."

"Harry that's not..." Hermione's voice started confidently, only to fade into uncertainty.

"Hermione, I'm a Slytherin. Blaise is a Slytherin. We may have learned from different places, but one thing's the same; lying works. I don't like lying, especially not to my friends, but that clearly doesn't mean I won't. Sometimes…sometimes there are things that just aren't as…oh bloody hell. I don't know what to say, guys."

"Harry!" Hermione scolded. He just looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Alright, language aside, it's not the same! It's—"

"Hermione, it is. I don't care how good my intentions were, the fact is that I still lied. I—"

"Harry," Neville cut him off, "shut up." Harry was so surprised that he actually did. Neville just _didn't_ interrupt people. He barely even talked to anyone other than Hermione and him. Though, to be fair, the same could probably be said of Hermione and him…

"The point is that we trust you, Harry," Hermione stated with certainty, "You're our friend, and you've stood by us when it really mattered. Blaise hasn't. So there _is_ a difference."

Harry attempted to catch up with the conversation and keep his surprise from showing. "That was fast. I've been trying to figure out how I'd talk to you guys for weeks!"

Neville's lips twitched towards a smile. "Harry, we had two days to figure it out. You hardly even needed to talk to us. Some secrets have to be kept. And you said it yourself; you never actually lied to us. And…I suppose Blaise didn't either. But you're our friend, Harry, and Blaise is someone who helps us out from time to time. There's a difference."

Harry looked at Neville, then at Hermione. He supposed that he might have been worried for nothing.

"Alright then," he said, grinning, "who's up for a round of friendly chess?"

From there, things quickly devolved into Hermione absolutely thrashing them at chess, though Harry did manage to make her slip up once by suggesting to her pieces that she was a bit of a tyrant. She responded by asking them "politely" if they would like to order themselves, which swiftly returned control to her. They knew all too well that she was the best hope of victory they had.

* * *

Over the next few days, Harry continued to notice changes in attitude around him. Overall, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff treated him the same as always, slightly suspicious but not unfriendly. They were perhaps a touch cooler to the Slytherin quidditch team if they were the competitive type, but he understood that. The real differences were in Slytherin and Gryffindor.

The Slytherins continued to treat him as a valuable potential ally, and he had to admit it was nice not to need to avoid his own common room anymore. He got in the habit of leaving a few things there for afternoon classes and studying, so he might have a reason to return. This allowed him to control when and how long he talked to his housemates, which he liked quite a lot. They were acting friendlier now, but he still didn't like very many of them. He was simply interested in keeping the peace, which required conversation at a minimum.

The Gryffindors were another story, however. They hadn't liked Harry before, but they'd tolerated him. And to a certain extent, they still did. Professor McGonagall, who managed to keep an incredibly neutral attitude despite heading a house, was hardly even treating him differently. But some of them, mostly quidditch fans like Ron Weasley, had decided that he was evil incarnate and not even worth acknowledging. This approach failed to bother Harry at all; his relatives were at their nicest when they were ignoring him, and he'd hardly interacted with the Gryffindors in the first place. The real problem was that Hermione and Neville received the same treatment. If it hadn't been for the silver lining of the Weasley twins, Harry wasn't sure what he would have done. But the twins, unlike the rest of their team and a good portion of their house, were more than willing to acknowledge Harry and his friends. Perhaps too willing.

"There he is, Fred," George said one afternoon as the trio walked to lunch.

"There he is indeed, George," said Fred.

"We are currently in the presence of the one—"

"And only—"

"First year seeker—"

"And let's not forget the boy-who-lived, as well—"

"And what's more, he's with his friends!"

By this point, Harry, Hermione, and Neville had turned to face the twins. "Yeah, here I am," Harry said, "Now why are you so interested? I told you that the seeker thing wasn't my idea."

"Oh but you still pulled it off," said Fred.

"And rather marvelously to boot," said George.

"Why, we'd almost call you a natural—"

"Your own friends didn't see it coming!"

"And on top of that—"

"You're a damn good seeker—"

"So you can see why we might take an interest."

Hermione and Neville looked to still be catching up. "Hang on," Hermione said, "What are you saying? It almost sounds like you knew Harry was the Slytherin seeker and you didn't tell anyone, and now you're impressed at his seeking ability on top of everything else."

Fred and George shared an impressed look. "Right you are, Granger—" George began.

"You know we might just be interested in you too, if you're that good," Fred finished.

Hermione blushed slightly. "That doesn't explain why the beaters wouldn't tell anyone who the Slytherin seeker was!"

"Oh, that's simple—" George said.

"Though in hindsight we do rather regret it—" Fred continued.

"You see, we saw the spirit of a fellow prankster in young Mr. Potter here—"

"And we just couldn't ruin his act." Fred and George both paused for a beat. "Of course," Fred added, "we didn't realize that _he_ was the ace flyer, we thought he'd just be the distraction."

"As such, our warning to the team rather backfired," George said, looking rather sad.

"But there's a silver lining!" Fred exclaimed, "Harry's proven himself highly competent, and now we don't have to hold back!" Harry immediately tensed.

"Oh, relax you silly," George said, "It wouldn't be a good prank if you were expecting it." And on that ominous note, the two walked past Harry and his friends, turning into the Great Hall.

Silence hung in the air.

"So," Hermione said, "apparently it's hard to keep a secret from the Weasley twins."

"Tell me about it," Harry said, "They scared me half to death when they told me the first time. If they hadn't distracted me by shoving me into a girl's bathroom I might have punched one of them."

Neville cracked up at that, despite himself, "A girl's bathroom?" he asked, voice thick with almost suppressed laughter.

"In fairness to them, I had been looking for Hermione, and they led me right to her," Harry said. "This was on Halloween, before all the drama with the troll."

"That was how you found me?" Hermione burst out, "I thought you'd just followed me…"

"Yes, Hermione, you have something to thank those two clowns for. Now, I think it's time for lunch." Harry turned and walked into the Great Hall, exchanging his usual goodbyes with Hermione and Neville, who'd followed him after a moment's hesitation.

As he sat at his usual spot, Harry noticed a piece of paper sticking out from under his plate. There was some writing on it.

 _A word of advice,_

The rest was covered by the plate. Harry pulled the paper out from under the plate…and was promptly blinded by a very glittery explosion. After spitting out what a bit of what appeared to be very sticky glitter and clearing his eyes, Harry saw that the rest of the note read,

 _Never follow such an easily exploitable routine._

 _-F &G_

Harry glared over at the Gryffindor table. As he did so, however, he noticed that all eye seemed to once again be on him. He noticed that his face felt a bit sticky, and his nose was redder than usual. He touched his face with his hand, and it came away with several sticky pieces of glitter attached. He would definitely have to punch those irritating twins the first chance he got.

* * *

Harry stood outside of Professor Snape's office, not entirely sure why he was so nervous. This was something that he really should be able to talk to his head of house about, and this issue in particular pertained to Professor Snape more than most.

Harry still felt the irrational urge to run away.

Comforting himself with the knowledge that his professor secretly wasn't ignoring him as much as he pretended to, Harry knocked on the door. Three times. Then he swallowed, hard.

"You may enter," came a voice from within. Harry entered. "Mr. Potter. What did you come here to talk about?"

"Er…" Harry started, nearly losing his nerve, "I was wondering…if you could tell me more about what happened to my broom." How did Snape manage to remain so intimidating, even with the knowledge that he was something like a close family friend?

Behind his desk, Harry's head of house put the quill he'd been using back into an inkwell and sat slightly straighter. "Ah. I had wondered whether you would have questions." He paused, seeming to consider something for several seconds. "You must understand, Mr. Potter, that not a word of this is to leave my office." Harry considered that, and then nodded. "Very well. Your broom had its braking charm disabled, and as you had no trouble before your dive and equipment was checked over before the match, it is a safe assumption that the disabling enchantment was placed in the moment." Professor Snape paused, and Harry nodded in understanding. That sounded mostly like what Blaise had said. "What you need to understand is that there are perhaps twenty people in the entire wizarding world capable of such a feat. One of them has good reason to attack you."

Harry considered that. It almost sounded like…"Are you saying that this has to do with…the way my parents died, sir?"

Professor Snape folded his hands. "Yes, I am. Many aspects of what happened that night are speculation, and what isn't is hardly my place to say. But something that I think you should know is that the Dark Lord's demise that night is among those things that have no conclusive proof." He paused, letting that sink in.

"Wait a minute. Are you saying that Voldemort is _alive_ and somehow interfered with my broom?" Harry asked incredulously.

"As I said, Mr. Potter, nearly everything that happened is speculation. But it is certainly possible that the Dark Lord, or an agent of his is trying to hurt you, or worse."

"Madam Pomfrey said that I was lucky to be alive…" Harry said, remembering that the woman had seemed surprised he was doing as well as he was.

Harry saw something that nearly bordered on emotion cross Professor Snape's face for the briefest second. "Indeed. Now you should rest assured that Albus Dumbledore, the one man that the Dark Lord always feared, is your headmaster, and also very protective of his students. In the future, he will be attending all of the quidditch matches, and also increasing security within and outside of the castle. All the same, you should be very careful. Your crash was definitely no accident."

* * *

 **A/N: Oooooooh! Alright, fine, you all have a very good idea what's going on, but look at it from Harry's perspective, or even Professor Snape's. The last wizard capable of such a precise feat of magic is supposed to be dead, or nearly powerless, and yet they've managed to infiltrate Hogwarts. Sure, Professor Snape is suspicious of Professor Quirrel, but the imperious shouldn't make that possible, and possession isn't remotely common. It wouldn't even occur to someone who wasn't intimately familiar with Horcruxes.**

 **And yes, things in the match were different than cannon. They sort of had to be, by this point, and I think that's what most of you want, anyway.**

 **Oh yeah, I also got out this chapter that's basically as long as two shorter chapters, and it only took me twice as long as it should have, if I'm being generous.**

 **Sorry?**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**

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 **Oh dear, that didn't end quite how I wanted it to. Here's a little gift to make up for the long stretch between uploads.**

 **(This is totally NOT because I needed to put this in and it's not long enough to be a chapter, but I'd need a chapter break afterwards. Totally. Okay, it was, but I didn't take extra time writing it and delay posting, I just couldn't figure out what to do with it.)**

 **Oh, and it's not yet edited, because Adlada, my beta, also has a life with complications. But you all liked the first chapter, right? He didn't touch that one. Much. Certainly not before the second chapter had been posted, that's when we first seriously talked. I think. Yes, I'll shut up now.**

* * *

After finding out that he needed to worry about the most feared wizard in the world, Harry retreated into himself. He couldn't tell Hermione or Neville, even if he hadn't promised Professor Snape. Harry was freaking out enough; his friends didn't need to worry. Voldemort wasn't after them. He still studied with them in the library, though his chess game was suffering. But he kept a brave face up in public, only letting loose when he was exploring the castle.

He'd stopped taking Hermione and Neville with him on these walks, and started walking after curfew. That way, no one would miss him. It was difficult, but possible to slip out of the common room unnoticed. The prefects had a strict schedule of patrols and common room duty. He'd noticed that they were alert and watching when they switched places with each other, though they still didn't stop anyone who was being discreet enough. They would tip off Professor Snape, who would track down the offender and give detentions. But Harry would wait until the middle of a shift to sneak in or out. That way, they were bored, probably tired, and not especially attentive. Just like the Dursleys watching a show on the telly. It had gotten him unnoticed bathroom breaks growing up, and now the same method let him escape from the people in the castle. Once his roommates were asleep, the castle was his.

And what a castle! Hogwarts was plenty large enough to distract him from his woes. He found rooms with no furniture, rooms with furniture that seemed unnaturally durable, and one particularly odd room on the fifth floor that had nothing but comfortable looking armchairs. And on top of that, if he could find them, there were the secret passages. The one the Weasley twins had taken him through on Halloween was just one of many, many passages, and none of them were immediately apparent. Most hid behind paintings that needed to be persuaded, or stroked in a particular spot on the frame, or told a particular passphrase in one case. Harry still hadn't figured out what the word was, but the first time he'd stopped to talk, the painting of the balding old man on the fourth floor had asked for a password. And on top of that, Harry had found several false door that, on further examination, were always located somewhere near a stretch of wall that wasn't really there. Harry suspected that the torches and tapestries without residents might hide something as well, but he couldn't figure out what, or how.

As he explored the castle at night, and even during the days, a feeling of timelessness began to overcome Harry. It felt comforting, like a great wave trying to overwhelm his problems. His schoolwork began to suffer, but fortunately he still had Hermione and Neville to help him with that. They were worried about him, he knew, but he didn't tell them anything. He couldn't.

It all came to a head when they finally confronted him.

"Harry," Hermione began, "we're worried about you. You look stressed all the time, and you have bags under your eyes like you haven't been sleeping. What's going on; you have to tell us!"

Harry wasn't sure why, but something about that just…set him off. He snapped, "Well maybe it's something private! I'm not talking about it, and I'd hoped you would respect that!" He began shoving his things hastily into his bag.

"Harry…" Neville started, but a look from Harry quieted him. Briefly. As Harry began to walk away, Neville found his voice again. "Harry, you helped Hermione through a hard time because you wouldn't let her keep up the act that nothing was wrong. You can't ignore us when we try to do the same for you!"

But it was Hermione's shaky voice that stopped him. "Harry, if you d-don't stop I-I'll hex you."

Harry stopped. He slowly turned, pulling his wand out of his…wait, _where had his wand gone?_ Harry looked up and saw that Hermione was holding two, and one of the looked awfully familiar.

"Harry, you forgot this," she said, holding up his wand. And she was right. He'd been doing some practice wandwork, and in his rush he hadn't even remembered to pick up his wand.

"Now I know something serious is wrong, Harry," Neville said, "You never leave your wand behind. Blaise taught you better than that." And he had. Harry was worse than he'd thought if he'd forgotten his habit of always putting his wand back into his robes when he was done with it.

"Harry, it's just like you said to me, 'You're better than that.' You shouldn't be doing so poorly that you can't even remember your wand. What's going on?" Harry hesitated. But then he saw fire in Hermione's eyes. "Harry, so help me I will snap your wand if you keep shutting us out like this! It's not good for you, and it's insulting to us!"

Harry felt his shoulders droop. "Alright, alright. I really shouldn't be telling you this," Hermione made a threatening move with his wand, "but I certainly will be! Relax, Hermione. I just…I'm not sure I would be the best person to explain it."

"Harry," Neville said in a comforting tone, "it's your problem. You should explain it."

"Alright, fine," he capitulated, walking back over to their table. He sat down and then looked over at his two friends. His two _only_ friends, really. How was he supposed to explain this to them?

"Harry—" Hermione said warningly, but Neville cut her off.

"Hermione, relax. Let him think. Whenever something was bothering me, my nanny would let me think before I talked. It helps."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry said. "I mean, it's not complicated at all though. It's just that I don't want to share this with my only friends. I…oh I don't know."

Hermione looked at Neville, then back at Harry. "Why…why don't you want to say, Harry?" she tried.

"Because it'd scare you! I don't want you to run away just because of something that isn't even certain anyway!"

"Harry," Neville said, "we aren't going anywhere. I owe you for catching me when I fell off that broom, and we are both your friends. Just tell us."

There was a pause, and Hermione spoke up. "Harry, even if it is certain, Neville's right. We owe you, and you're a great friend. You can tell us."

Harry looked at both of his friends and sighed. "All right. I'll do my best. But this is a lot of speculation." He paused and took a deep breath. "So it started when I went to talk to Professor Snape to ask him what happened to my broom. He told me that the inhibiting spell work was so difficult, almost no one could pull it off. And Voldemort himself—sorry Neville—you know who was one of those few."

"But you defeated you-know-who," Hermione said, "I thought you beat him when you were just a baby, and the only thing to worry about was his Death Eaters."

"Well, Professor Snape said that was speculation. No one really knows what happened that night."

"But then why has you-know-who been gone all these years?" Neville asked.

"He didn't say. But he did say that it was possible that Vol—er you-know-who is out there, trying to hurt me…or worse. And Madam Pomfrey said that I was lucky I survived the fall at all."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said. She put his wand down on the table. "And you've been dealing with that all alone?"

"How was I supposed to tell you?" He asked, remembering how long he'd agonized over that question, "I've found out that my parents' killer is probably on the loose, hunting me down. What am I supposed to tell my friends?"

"You tell us that you're struggling, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "Whenever I had trouble with a test, or with something at school, I had my parents to help me! You need someone to help you with stuff like this!"

Harry was taken aback. Help? He'd managed worse at the Dursleys' without trouble, hadn't he? Well, he supposed he'd never had to deal with someone trying to kill him before, but how hard could it be?

"Harry, you can't just bottle this stuff up," Neville said, "my nanny never let me…she always made me talk about it. It really helped."

Harry just stayed quiet. He was still processing this. Seeing that he wasn't going to talk, Hermione asked, "So why is you-know-who after you, then?"

"Well, that's obvious, isn't it?" Neville said, "Harry beat him as a baby. You-know-who ruled through fear. Nobody was afraid anymore once he'd been beaten by a little baby. I was pretty young, but people still talked about that day for years afterward. It was the day that they found hope again."

"Okay," Hermione said, "but then why now? If he wasn't dead, wouldn't he have tried to…to attack you when you were still just a baby?"

"Oh," Harry said, "Maybe Dumbledore was right. Maybe being at the Dursleys' all this time really did keep me safe. I certainly wasn't enjoying myself, but they weren't hostile enough to kill me."

"But you said they were related to you," Hermione said, "wouldn't someone be able to figure that out? I mean, Neville said that some people even thought you might be in the muggle world." No one could think of anything to refute that. Then it hit Harry.

"Wait, what if I'm not all he's after?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well we know that Dumbledore's going to extreme measures to protect something, don't we? What if V-you-know-who's after that too? It might be some kind of weapon. Or—what if he didn't attack me because he couldn't?"

"Wait," Neville said, "I know most wizards wouldn't think to track you through the muggle world, but you-know-who might have anyway, given the suspicions. Why wouldn't he be able to get to you?"

"For the same reason he hasn't been attacking people for the last ten years," Harry said, "whatever happen that night hurt him so badly that he couldn't! What if the thing the Cerberus is guarding could heal him?"

Hermione frowned, "Wait, if he needs help that badly, how did he get a spell on your broom?"

"I don't know," Harry said, "Maybe he can still do magic, he just can't move around very well. He'd have to hide out, because he couldn't get away if enough people were chasing him. But if there's something sitting still, like in the vault at Gringotts or on the third floor corridor…"

"Then he can wait for the right moment," Hermione finished.

"Do you think we should warn the professors?" Neville asked.

"No, Professor Snape said they were increasing security anyway. He's the one who told me it might be V-you-know-who in the first place. I think we should try to figure out who this Flamel bloke is, and why he'd have something so valuable. Then we might know if there's any way to stop you-know-who that the professors haven't thought of."

"Well, we are in the library, whatever good that might do," Hermione said.

"Yeah…yeah. I think I'm gonna go check something out," Neville said, walking off into the shelves.

"What's he on about," Harry asked.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "But I _know_ I've read about Nicholas Flamel somewhere! Ugh, why can't I remember?"

Harry left her to it, and walked off to see if he could find a book they hadn't checked yet. A relevant book anyway, he thought, looking at the sheer volume of books around him.

The thing was, he had that same niggling feeling. Where would _he_ have read about Nicholas Flamel?

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, it's really over now.**

 **For a few days. XD**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: The sky is blue. Yeah…I couldn't think of anything else to say.**

 **Oh, and Millie, thank you. You may be a guest reviewer, but I still want to thank you for the kind words somehow. You affirmed a stylistic choice I made and told me that the biggest problem I've been having isn't such a big problem. You may not know how much that helps, but it does. So I'll say it again; thank you.**

* * *

Christmas was approaching, and the weather along with it. Snow began to coat the ground as December proceeded, which meant that the Weasley twins had one more way to prank people. They'd enchanted some snowballs to follow Professor Quirrell around, bouncing off of his turban, among other things. Not that they needed more ways to. They had successfully pranked Harry six times since their trick in the Great Hall. The only reason it hadn't been seven was that Harry had a minor defense enchantment on his robes that Blaise had taught him. It had been enough to keep any funny business his roommates tried from bothering his robes, and anything else he'd put it on, but after their attempt to pour some fowl-smelling liquid all over him had failed due to quick feet and a _prasul presul_ , Fred and George had simply filled his shower pipe with the same liquid. No one knew how on earth they'd managed such a thing, nor how they knew that he showered first in the morning to specifically target him. But part of the floor was charmed to repel the substance (which Harry's roommates so kindly informed him was called stinksap before leaving him to deal with it alone.) The clean bits spelled out, in those damned Weasleys' handwriting:

 _There's always a way around defenses, Harry_

That evening, the twins had been alarmed to find that their dinner contained a rather alarming amount of something that tasted like urine. No one knew just how someone had managed to get something past the Weasley twins, but everyone had thought it amusing to see them hacking and coughing at a mealtime, as he imagined they'd caused such behavior in others fairly often.

That night in the common room, Harry had quietly handed Blaise five galleons and expressed his thanks for teaching him the nearly unheard of charm for changing the taste of a substance. The only downside was the short range it was effective in. But Fred and George sat with Hermione and Neville often enough anyway, so they hadn't suspected anything when the pair had approached them for tips on their charm work. The greatest pranksters in the school may have checked all of their food before eating it, but that did no good if someone could quietly cast a spell after they checked. As they themselves had said, there's always a way around someone's defenses.

The only problem was that now Fred and George had made sure Harry knew he would never be safe in the castle again, via Hermione and Neville. Fortunately, his friends seemed to have kept their part of the prank quiet, so Harry only had to worry about protecting himself. He even had an idea how to stay safe. The only problem was acting on his idea. Harry's nerve was beginning to fail him. But the thought of the stinksap shower kept him going.

Harry came to a stop outside of a door in the boy's hallway of the dorms. This was where the third year boys lived. He knocked. Leeroy had talked to him a few times since their initial dinner chat, so he shouldn't be unwelcome. Hopefully. The door opened.

"Harry!" Leeroy exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"

Harry swallowed his surprise. He hadn't expected Leeroy to be the one to answer the door. "I'm here to discuss something that might interest you," he said. He'd heard enough conversations in the common room to know that specifics were never mentioned in public.

Leeroy's expression became quite knowing. "Ah, then come in. There's no one else in right now." That wasn't terribly surprising; it was the middle of the afternoon. Harry had only watched to be sure that Leeroy was there. As he entered the room, Leeroy gestured to a chair beside one of the beds. Harry sat on it. The older boy then sat on the bed in question.

"So," Leeroy said, "what are you here to talk about?"

Harry paused, letting his plan whirl through his head one last time. "I'm sure you've heard of my trouble with the Weasley twins?" Leeroy nodded. "It's become quite clear to me that I'm a bit out of my depth. I'd like to ask for some help."

"You, need help with the Weasley twins?" Leeroy asked incredulously, "I hear you held your own with them quite well."

"I did," Harry said, not wanting to argue that point, "but they've still got two full years of magical education on me. I can only research so much in the library, and they've been perfecting their craft for years."

The older boy nodded, conceding the point, "So what do you want from me?" he asked.

This was the difficult part. Harry didn't want to look like a weakling asking for help, he'd seen people ridiculed for that anywhere there weren't witnesses from other houses. But at the same time, Harry did need help. "I was thinking about what you said the first time we talked. You said that I was in a unique position to make friends you would normally never be able to talk to. If I can best the Weasley twins, plenty of those people will look at me just that much more favorably. The only problem is that I don't know much of their history, or any of the spells they would have learned in their normal education. But you do."

Leeroy considered that. "And you think that you can outsmart the Weasley twins?"

"Of course I can. I already have, and if you agree, I'll have at least one other Slytherin mind helping me. Add to that the crowd of people willing to help take those damn twins down a notch and they won't know what hit them." Harry wasn't quite as confident as that, actually, but he didn't think it would be wise to tell Leeroy that. If people still believed that he'd personally fought the troll, showing any kind of weakness would be out of character. And despite his best efforts, most people still did believe that he'd killed a troll.

"Alright then," Leeroy said after a pause, "I'll help you. I can hardly let a friend go without a little assistance, can I?"

"Of course you can't, you need my help getting your politics into Gryffindor," Harry said.

That gave Leeroy a bit of pause. After several moments, the boy said, "I think that you'll go quite far here, Harry."

Nodding, Harry stood up, "Thank you. But unless you have something else to discuss, I had better be off. Even if I didn't have homework, Hermione would find something for me to do. She's merciless." Harry chuckled slightly. Leeroy just fixed him with an odd look.

"I suppose I'll see you around then?" the older boy asked.

"Yes," Harry said. With one last wave, he left the room. As he shut the door, he let out a massive sigh of relief. He'd thought learning magic was hard. Then he'd started trying to figure out the relationships of Slytherin house. Shaking his head slightly, Harry headed back to the library. He had potions tomorrow, and he wasn't sure that even Hermione had finished their essay yet. He needed to get to work.

* * *

After several hours of work the previous evening perfecting their essays, Harry, Hermione and Neville sat comfortably in their seats in the dungeon. Professor Snape stood at the head of the room, staring them down. This was how classes always started; he would stand there and stare at the door until precisely when class was to begin, and when it did he would promptly announce their brew for the day, occasionally offer some minor caution mixed in with snide commentary of their sub-par skills, before settling down to work on something at his desk. Periodically throughout the lesson he would get up to walk about the room, correcting any minor mistakes and removing points from the Gryffindors for anything he could find that might merit it. Today, however, something about the potion caught Harry's eye.

"Neville, isn't solidago a healing herb?" he asked. Neville looked up at him across the potion. Today, Hermione was working with Lavender Brown, so Neville was with Harry.

"Well, yeah, I guess. It reacts pretty badly with ashwinder feathers though…" Neville suddenly looked down in a panic. "Like these ones!"

"Relax, Neville," Harry said, "We haven't put the feathers in yet. What kind of bad reaction are we talking about?" As if to answer this question, Ron Weasley and Seamus Finnegan's cauldron began to boil over across the room. The two boys scrambled away from it, and Professor Snape swooped in.

"I-if they touch it, it could be burns, I think, Neville said. S-solidago is poisonous to ashwinders, and their feathers don't react well with it either!" Harry peripherally registered the points being taken from Gryffindor as Snape vanished Weasley and Finnegan's potion.

"How do we stop that from happening, Neville?" Harry asked. He checked the book, and it seemed they needed to put the feathers in next. "We gotta figure this out fast, we need those feathers in soon."

"Well, if we do like the book says and crush the feathers, the reaction should be milder, but you need specifically prepared pestle to safely crush ashwinder feathers…" Harry glanced up at the board. Professor Snape usually mentioned things like this, why hadn't he today? But there it was, written plainly on the board, a small side-note to step 5.

 _"The properly prepared pestles are in the supply cupboard, third shelf. Be sure to use them."_

Harry rushed over to the supply cupboard, and hurriedly opened the doors. Sure enough, the third shelf had pestles on it. Harry grabbed one and ran back over to Neville, handing it off. "Use this," he said, "and hurry. I think we have about a minute before those feathers need to be in the potion." Neville nodded rapidly and got to work. Harry went back to his seat and checked over all the directions in the book they hadn't yet gotten to. They all matched the directions on the board, no more unexpected surprises. Still, it was bugging Harry that Snape hadn't mentioned the pestles. He always mentioned things like that before class. But as Neville tipped the ground up feathers into the potion, Harry needed to stir it, and after that he quickly got reabsorbed into the process. But after class, Harry brought it back up.

"What was up with Professor Snape today? He's never forgotten to tell us to be careful of dangerous potion ingredients before, even if he does usually skim over any details. At least we know where to be careful, but today…" Harry trailed off, trying to make sense of it.

To his surprise, Hermione piped up immediately, "Oh I thought that was obvious. He assigned us reading in the book that covered the topic last week, and our essay topic even covered it a bit. Knowing him, I bet Snape wanted anyone who wasn't paying enough attention to their work to mess up in class, as a sort of comeuppance. It is kind of fitting, you have to admit."

"Fitting, Hermione?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Are you sure you aren't just happy that it was _Ron Weasley_ that messed up?"

Hermione turned pink. "Alright, that might have something to do with it. He's just such a loudmouth, and he never does his work on time! Even if he hadn't called me a traitor for befriending "the enemy" I doubt he and I would have seen eye to eye."

Harry smirked. "Fair enough. I can't say I'm too fond of any Weasleys at the moment either." Neville snorted at that.

"Alright, but what really caught my eye was the ingredient the ashwinder feathers were reacting with," Hermione said.

"Solidago, right?"

"Yes. It's a flower usually used for healing."

"Yeah, that's what caught my eye about it," Harry said.

"More than that though, it means 'solidarity' in the language of flowers. And this potion was sure to draw everyone's attention to the reacting ingredients, right?"

"Yeah…" Harry said. "Wait, you think this was another message?"

Hermione grinned, "Yep. I think he's heard of the brewing prank war between you and the Weasley twins, or just guessed the truth from the show in the Great Hall a few days ago. I think he was offering you some kind of help. I just can't figure out how Snape would help you. I mean, I get that he's only acting like he ignores you, but I can't figure him doing anything that would make it look like he's stopped ignoring you. And he's Snape! He wouldn't help a student who's in trouble, he'd take points away from them for whatever they did."

"Nothing's ever simple in Slytherin," Harry grumbled. It was the one constant in his house, it seemed, and it irritated him to no end. "Still, it's something to keep in mind. If nothing else, it might be nice to have a secret family friend who can help out if I get into trouble."

"If you say so," Neville said, "But I wouldn't go to Snape for help in something like a prank war. I can't see him taking kindly to that."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, "I didn't say it made sense. But anyway, what do you say we start early on our homework this time? Last night was not fun."

"I slept perfectly well," Hermione said in a superior tone.

"Yes, I was thinking that we could follow your example," Harry said. "Maybe after lunch we get started in the library?"

"Yeah," Neville agreed, "That would be a good idea."

Hermione just smiled. "I did warn you two that you needed to get working. Several times. I'll only help you out when you're doing your work on time."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said with only a hint of exasperation, "I'll see you after lunch." Then he turned right and walked straight through a wall, taking a shortcut he'd discovered during one of his midnight wanderings. Behind him, he heard Neville's annoyed voice.

"I hate it when he does that. I've tried to follow him, but by the time I've found the opening he's…" Harry rounded a corner with a grin on his face. Maybe someday he'd teach them.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Harry learned many things from Leeroy. He wasn't surprised to learn how active the twins had been as pranksters, as he was learning that lesson firsthand. He had, however been surprised at their creativity and ingenuity. Filling the Slytherin first year's dorm pipes with stinksap had been only one of their many pranks that left everyone wondering how on Earth they had managed it. As Leeroy told Harry the stories of all the pranks the twins had pulled, or at least the big ones that everyone remembered, Harry couldn't help but wonder when the two of them found time to sleep, let alone study. Having considered a great many pranks of his own, (he was in the middle of a prank war, after all) he judged that Fred and George probably spent an average of three days preparing for their big pranks, and their trademark was leaving everyone clueless to how they'd pulled it off. That took effort, and time, and Harry was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to match them. He'd have to figure out some other way to keep up with them, and hopefully even get them to back off a bit.

On the bright side, however, Leeroy had agreed to tutor him on some of the more accessible third year spells that might come in handy. Detection spells for his food and drink, more serious warding for his personal possessions, and even the shielding charm. The shielding charm was rather difficult, however.

"Try again, Harry," Leeroy said for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was only casting stinging jinxes, but they still hurt, and Harry was getting a bit frustrated.

"When exactly did you say you learned about this again?" he demanded.

"I didn't," Leeroy said shortly, "But if it's so important to you, I could cast this spell by the time I was seven. Wizarding children may not be allowed wands, but with enough practice they can gain a measure of control over their accidental magic. My parents wanted to be sure that I could defend myself should anything ever happen to me, and so they put me through _far_ worse than what I am doing to you in an effort to teach me that control."

"You can do magic without a wand?" Harry asked.

"It's much harder that way," Leeroy said, "But yes, I can. Most people only ever learn the basics without their wand, if they even bother. It's not exactly a practical skill when everyone carries a wand anyway."

"Can you teach me?"

Leeroy looked at him speculatively. "Perhaps. But after you've learned _protego._ It's easier to learn spells with a wand first, and you should know how to shield yourself. Now, are you ready?" Harry sighed, but raised his wand.

 _"Piqta!"_

 _"Protego!"_ A shield briefly flickered in front of Harry, and for a moment his spirits rose, but it dissipated before the stinging jinx even touched it. "Ow!" He rubbed his chest as the stinging faded.

Leeroy raised an eyebrow. "Good job. That's farther than I got on my second day. Now let's see if you can hold it up this time. _Piqta!"_

 _"Protego!"_ This time the shield was more solid, as Harry focused his determination not to get stung into it. As the jinx passed through it, however, it dissipated. Fortunately, it took the jinx with it.

"Nice work. Now let's see if you can make it a bit more durable. I'm hardly trying to hurt you, and if you're defending yourself you need your shield to stand up to at least one serious spell as you make for sturdier cover."

Harry nodded, raising his wand once more. As the jinx headed toward him, he focused all his might into his wand as he incanted, _"Protego!"_ This time, the shield held, and the stinging jinx splashed into it, dissipating. Harry felt the shield drain a fair amount of energy from him as it did so, but then he was fine, and the shield was still holding.

"Well done, Harry. There's really not much more to teach, unless you want to get into the tactics of when to use it, which I really don't. I'd recommend you get some practice in, and try to make it as strong as you can, but other than that, I think we're done here."

"Right. Thanks," Harry said standing up to leave.

"Don't mention it. Just go out there and show those Weasleys a thing or two."

Harry grinned at the thought. "I'll do that."

As he walked back down the hall to his own dorm for the night, Harry considered his plans for actually getting back at Fred and George. They'd backed off a bit since he made their dinner taste like urine, but Harry didn't feel safe at all. Leeroy had confirmed his suspicions that this tended to mean they were planning something big. This meant that Harry's first concern was self-defense. He had enchanted everything he owned with wards that would sting anyone who tried to touch them, and then erect a shield to keep any persistent hands off. He'd also begun checking all of his food and drink for tampering, as well as entering any situation he could see a possible prank occurring in with extra caution. So far, it seemed to be working. But he also didn't have evidence the twins had tried anything. It was maddening.

To keep himself from going insane, he'd discussed a few possibilities with Hermione and Neville. As far as he could tell, the twins were at least as cautious as him, even if they didn't usually look it. He'd have to surprise them, or come up with something they hadn't yet. As far as he could tell, that would probably mean resorting to muggle methods. As wizarding children, their knowledge of muggle pranks was incredibly limited, where Hermione had grown up picked on by many rather creative and rude bullies. Harry knew a few good pranks too, though most of them had been daydreams of things he might try on Dudley, as the boy and his gang had tended to resort to chasing him down and punching him a lot. Between Harry and Hermione, they had come up with one thing that could work, for a start.

The idea of a bucket on a door was a very old one, but with a little magic, it could become far better. Their idea was to levitate a bucket over the door to the Gryffindor common room and dump it as the twins walked out. Hermione and Neville had been hesitant at first, but then Harry had told them about finding the Gryffindor tower during his explorations. It was hardly a well-kept secret where it was, and the entrance was guarded by the portrait of the fat lady anyway. Harry also happened to know of a secret passage that led nearly right to the portrait, and his plan was to hide inside that in the morning, waiting for the twins to come out. After he drenched them, he'd hightail it to the Great Hall and pretend that he knew nothing. He just hoped that the twins didn't know more shortcuts than he did. Rumor had it they knew the castle better than anyone, and some speculated that included Dumbledore.

As Harry settled into his bed, he set his alarm charm several hours earlier than usual. Now that he knew at least one personal defense charm, he had something to rely on should all else fail and go horribly wrong. And the only other thing he could do was wait for whatever the twins were planning. He didn't feel like doing that.

* * *

After his second hour of holding the bucket up with a levitation charm, Harry was beginning to regret his decisions. He hadn't realized how hard maintaining the spell for an extended period of time was. To add to the strain, he'd chosen a bucket that was more of a small tub, since he'd have to get both twins with it.

He _really_ regretted that decision.

Harry was distracted from his thoughts by the portrait opening for the first time. He'd been hiding behind the tapestry that covered the passageway for nearly two hours. Apparently he'd overestimated Gryffindors' tendencies to get up early. As the portrait swung open, Harry lifted the tapestry ever so slightly to see who was coming out…and didn't recognize them at all. It was a boy from the third or fourth year. Great. Harry hadn't been expecting Fred and George to be the first to rise, but he had expected the Gryffindors to get up earlier. Most of Slytherin was probably already awake and on their way to breakfast by now!

Over the next five minutes, the portrait opened and closed several more times. It appeared that with only an hour of breakfast left, most of Gryffindor was _finally_ heading to the great hall. Harry kept a close eye out for the twins, but so far he hadn't seen them. He had spotted Hermione and Neville heading down together, but he hadn't told them he'd be outside the common room, so he didn't indicate his presence to them.

At last, Harry saw the two redheads that he'd been waiting for. As soon as the second one cleared the doorway, Harry tipped the large bucket, spilling water all over the two of them. He wanted the whole common room to see this through the open doorway. He'd also left a little message in the bottom of the tub for the twins to find. The point of this was publicity as much as payback, after all.

Just as the twins started spluttering and wiping the water from their faces, Harry let the bucket fall to the floor with a loud clatter before bolting down the passageway. He wanted to see the result of his prank, but he also didn't want the twins to catch up to him, which meant he couldn't take any chances. But after a few tense minutes of running all the way to the Great Hall, it didn't appear he'd been followed. As he stopped to catch his breath, he allowed himself a grin at the memory of Fred and George getting drenched. They hadn't known what had hit them, and one had even been clutching at his chest like he was choking or something. He'd probably inhaled a bit of water. Served him right, Harry figured, remembering the stinksap shower.

Having caught his breath, Harry walked casually into the Great Hall. He waved to Hermione and Neville as he walked over to the Slytherin table and began to eat. Several minutes later, Harry noticed that the Weasley twins still hadn't come down to breakfast. What was keeping them? He'd half expected them to chase after him immediately, but he'd certainly expected them to follow him eventually. Their complete absence was starting to worry him.

As he finished breakfast and headed off towards Charms, Harry was to the point of triple-checking his back for signs of redheaded pranksters. So when Hermione called after him, he nearly hexed her into the next week.

"Harry! Wait—EEP!" Hermione halted suddenly, Harry's wand having materialized in her face.

"Oh…sorry," he muttered, putting his wand back in its pocket.

"Harry, what did you do to the twins this time?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Hermione, I can hardly keep up with the twins. What makes you think I even did anything?"

"Well," Neville spoke up, "you're jumping at shadows, for one. Besides, I can't remember the twins ever missing breakfast, and I know you were talking about how to get back at them with Hermione while I was finishing that charms homework."

"Okay, fine, I got the twins pretty good earlier. You remember the levitating bucket one we were thinking about?" He asked Hermione.

"Yeah, but we couldn't think of a good way to keep it there without actually holding a wand to it…"

"That's what I did. I got a really big bucket and dumped it on them as they went to breakfast. I half expected them to chase me down, but I haven't seen them since. Did you hear anything about them at the Gryffindor table?"

"Well, people were wondering why they hadn't shown up, but they've been planning something for a while now, so we figured that's where they were," Hermione said, "They were probably some of the last people out of the dorms this morning, and they were sitting at a corner table discussing something when we left."

That didn't sound good. Not only did he need to watch his back for whatever Fred and George were planning, they'd probably been making sure no one saw which way they went, either. So his attempt at another public prank had failed. "Do you have any idea what they were planning? Considering the circumstances, I'm probably the victim."

"Well…not really," Hermione said, "they've been keeping out of the common room quite a bit, and no one really knows where they go. There's a reason they have such a reputation."

"I think…" Neville said with a thoughtful expression, "I think they might be doing something with plants."

"Why?" Harry prompted.

"Well…it's silly, I know, but they usually smell like a greenhouse when they get back from whatever they're doing. And Professor Sprout said some of the plants in the greenhouses have been more upset than usual lately, but she didn't say why."

"Hmm…" Harry didn't like the sound of that. Some of the plants they dealt with in Herbology were pretty dangerous, and even more were capable of aiding a determined prankster, like the trees that had produced the stinksap Fred and George had used in their last prank. And on top of that, he'd just irritated them, so his least favorite twins were probably going to go all out.

"Well, they could be up to quite a lot of things in the greenhouses," Hermione said, "I mean there's the Alihotsy tree, and the Bubotuber, and then there's—"

"Mimbulus Mibletonia!" Neville said suddenly. He saw the shocked look on Harry and Hermione's faces, and hastily continued, "I've wanted one for ages. They can do all kinds of things, like spray predators with stinksap!"

"Really? Do you think that's where Fred and George got the stinksap they put in my shower pipes?" Harry asked.

"Oh…er, probably not. They're a bit rare, see. Plenty of other things produce stinksap. But Mimbulus Mimbletonia can spray it at predators, and it can be used in all kinds of mixtures and stuff."

"Hmm…what do you think they might be up to then?" Hermione asked.

Neville pondered that for a while. "If it were me, I'd probably try some diluted Bubotuber pus," he said eventually. "I don't know why the plants would be upset about that, but as long as you dilute it the pus could be great for pranks."

"But Bubotuber pus is incredibly dangerous!" Hermione exclaimed, "What if you spilled it?"

"Well it's also incredibly useful," Neville countered, "If you dilute it with an infusion of powdered unicorn horn it can prevent serious burns. But if you just dilute it with water I think it causes a rash or something. From what I've heard of the twins, it's right up their alley."

As he said this, they reached the second floor and paused. Hermione and Neville had Transfiguration first, which was on the third floor.

"So it sounds like I need to be careful of liquids today," he said glumly.

"Well, if they've let it dry they could do all kinds of things. Even the diluted powder itches like mad. And they might have done something else, too. I can't see squeezing the Bubotuber pods making all the plants mad."

"Great. Well, thanks anyway. See you at lunch," Harry said, waving goodbye. Hermione and Neville waved back with slightly worried looks on their faces. So comforting.

As he walked the rest of the way to Charms class, Harry was running scenarios in his head. So far the twins had proven that they had an unprecedented knowledge of the castle, creativity in spades, and probably a few resources that no one else knew about. That meant…yep, he was screwed. If they really wanted to get back at him, they probably would.

Figuring he might as well try, Harry recast his pitiful protective enchantments one last time, and headed into class.

* * *

 **A/N: I did say** _ **more**_ **regular, didn't I? I am sorry this chapter took an extra week or so, but c'est la vie.**

 **Anyone think they know what the twins are planning yet? They're definitely not going to be easy on Harry after what he just pulled.**

 **I leave you with one simple hint. They've improved on the technique somewhat, but what they're about to try is one of the oldest tricks in the proverbial book.**

 **XD**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**


	10. Important Announcement

**A/N: I ask that you read this author's note in full, as it isn't really what it seems to be at first glance. There is good news here, but I want to get the unpleasantness out of the way first.**

 **I also ask that if you are reading this, you spread the word that I have updated my story. The email alerts are currently down, and I've received no indication that anyone is doing anything about that, despite submitting a report to the mods. Since you're here, I presume you've worked around this issue, or you're one of the two people who knew this chapter was coming. I'd appreciate it if you'd help those not as on-top-of-things as you. Thank you.**

 **I'm afraid, my faithful readers, that this story has hit the point in hiatus where it will no longer receive regular updates. And this story** _ **has**_ **been on hiatus for several months. I apologize for failing to post a notice of this. This story** _ **will live on**_ **, though it may never reach completion as it currently exists. When I started writing this story, I had one idea for one character, and was fortunate enough to have a full universe to set that idea wild in. Unfortunately, that flame of inspiration soon sputtered and burned out as I realized with increasing certainty that my one idea would need far more work than I'd realized at first, for so any reasons. One character difference, even if it is the main character, just isn't enough to drive an interesting plot on its own. To compound the issue, I've never been a planner, and my plans often fall flat on their face. Not that I had great plans for this story in the first place. I needed plans to continue in the direction I'd chosen, and so I began the grind of plotting them out.**

 **For a time, this worked, but unfortunately, life interfered, laziness reared its ugly but all too familiar head, and progress halted, aside from brief and pointless sputtering among the fading coals that had once been my blazing inspiration. And so, for months, I put off writing and planning, told myself I would come back to** _ **Significance of Subtleties,**_ **and went about my own business. I considered declaring a hiatus several times, but told myself that, due to this website's admittedly poorly enforced rules and a stubborn sense of procrastination, I would post a full chapter with any notice of hiatus. As you may have guessed, I've gotten past feeding myself that particular excuse, and this won't be a full chapter. Instead, this is a notice of a hiatus that will in all likelihood be permanent, complete with outlines of what I have planned at the moment for this story.**

 **I have multiple reasons for posting these outlines. First, they are an apology for my lack of progress, and an offer of some closure to all of you, my readers, who deserve at least that much. I haven't fleshed out as much as I should have, but I can at least tell you, in short, where the story was going, what I was trying to do, and how, at present, I foresee it could end. Second, this story will live on, as I previously alluded to. The real problem with** _ **Significance of Subtleties**_ **is that a Slytherin Harry needs a different plot, and I stuck fast to canon, out of both a love for the original books and a desire to prove that good fanfiction kept close to canon. While I still believe that Slytherin Harry can be done within my standards of canon compliance, I was going about writing that story wrong, and I'd reached the point where fixing the issue was nearly impossible without serious reworking. This is where the good news begins; I've already begun the process of creating a different story, one which takes some cues from** _ **Significance of Subtleties.**_ **This new story allows me much more freedom and introduces some major departures from canon, all while splitting off from canon in what I have deemed a suitable fashion.**

 **My latest idea, or at least the latest one I'm telling you all about (*grin*) changes only one or two established facts from canon, and minor points at that.** _ **Significance of Subtleties**_ **was the same, initially. However, the new story, which I will (with great drama, suspension, and a few fun musical cues) call** _ **Undercover**_ **for now, differs from** _ **Significance of Subtleties**_ **by creating a massive universe, original characters who don't give a damn, departing from cannon in a more consistent fashion, and eventually breaking out of several moulds that should surprise you. I hope. In short,** _ **Undercover**_ **(that is just a working title, by the way) is designed to differ from canon and not to shy away from its differences, but instead to define itself by them. It's also designed to take influence from kathryn518's style, so if you enjoy her, you should (hopefully) enjoy** _ **Undercover,**_ **too.**

 _ **Undercover**_ **is still in the early planning stages, and I intend to handle the story differently than I handled** _ **Significance of Subtleties,**_ **so this is but a notice to those who are interested to keep an eye out for my next big story. A story which will take cues from both what has and hasn't been written of** _ **Significance of Subtleties.**_ **Enjoy the outlines. Especially the part where they're formatted by me, understood by me, and probably not too easy to understand for normal people in some places.**

 **And so, in no particular order, here's what went on inside my head as I conceived** _ **Harry Potter and the Significance of Subtleties**_ **!**

Harry Potter and the Significance of Subtleties

 _(anything of significant importance is probably on page four or beyond…)_

Harry Potter is later to King's Cross than he'd expected to be, and despite a moment of panic, meets a nice girl his age who helps him find the train. What changes when Harry rides the train with Hermione, instead of Ron? You might be surprised…

Of course, I have to account for Neville's presence in Hermione's train ride, but that shouldn't be terribly difficult. He may not express a strong opinion, or may just be looking for his toad and not for talk of houses. Harry and Hermione should talk about houses, however, **unless she goes into Gryffindor like cannon, and her first brave act is befriending a Slytherin…hmm. Interesting idea, actually.** Otherwise, she would definitely go into Ravenclaw, and the two will only slowly realize how well they may have done in Gryffindor. After all, Hermione, for all her prodigy, is still quite bold when pushed, and Harry is practically a quintessential Gryffindor in the books, though how much of that is peer pressure is never really touched upon. He's certainly not stupid, and while he doesn't scheme as he would definitely have learned in Slytherin, he does grasp complex ideas with minimal help from a young age.

Another question is how much the horcrux affected the sorting. It will certainly be a jarring shock to everybody when uncovered, and raise a massive question of where Harry truly belongs, and who he may really be. The idea of the story, of course, is that 'just Harry' makes just as fine a Slytherin as he makes a Gryffindor, it was mere circumstance that pushed him toward the house of the brave over the house of the cunning. After all, a bold plotter **(hmm, plotter, Potter. I might use that…)** makes for a very dangerous person.

Now, a less serious plot point: this ridiculous notion that the Wizengamot is a hereditary office, not an elected one. For love of Merlin, Lucius Malfoy isn't a member of the Wizengamot in cannon, shouldn't that say something! Draco (who Harry will be in the same dorm room with and get on a first name basis as quickly as Draco can manage the feat **[a feat that will be very difficult, Draco's a right prick to Harry in Madame Malkin's and won't like Granger any more than he likes Ron once he finds out she's muggleborn]** ) will mention something of the absurdity of the notion that his father could hold so much influence in a government where the officials are determined by who their parents were. Such a system would actually guarantee political literacy from the majority of the politicians at a higher level than normal, and also (as most fics portray) give an unfair advantage to entrenched policies that are already difficult enough to do away with. Every sane and intelligent person in government realizes that a hereditary system with such a drawback is only ever in your favor when the wind blows in your favor anyway, and would be to their benefit to do away with. The old systems only stood because the common man was a soldier at his most educated, and so far easier to order around while the bureaucrats only dealt with one major power, simplifying their lives. In modern society, such a system doesn't stand, because there are more people in power, and at some point enough of them will realize that their system is not advantageous except under the best of circumstances!

Right…rant over…I needed to get that out of my system. Now I need to shout it at the top of my lungs in a public forum, I think…yes, this fic will hopefully provide that public of that desire bit at least.

Will Hagrid still ask to meet him on his first Friday? Will it be at Dumbledore's behest this time? Will it be because Hagrid is simply worried about Harry being in Slytherin for Harry's sake? You'd think I'd just pick a solution that answers these questions and write that instead after some pondering, I am the author who's going to write this story after all, but I suppose years of not having control over my favorite stories has formed habits…also these are important questions that need answering and it helps to write them down. At any rate, Hagrid being legitimately worried that Harry's in danger in Slytherin sounds the most likely, though the question then is how apparent he'll make it, and how easily Harry will pick up on it. I'm doing it again, damn it. I suppose this is just how I brainstorm, by talking to myself as my fingers let my thoughts free in digital format. It also leaves hard decisions for later…yeah that's probably actually the root of the issue. I always hesitate with difficult decisions. Regardless, Hagrid is hardly subtle, so the real question is how exactly he'll word his letter, and whether I can work in a simple enough hint, or suspicion from Draco perhaps, that leads Harry to believe that there are parties worried about his sorting.

Hell, he's going to have to be worried about his sorting himself, Hagrid says (incorrectly) that there wasn't a wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. His sorting will have to be longer than cannon, and a major moment, almost a decision that changes his whole life, despite the fact that it's not entirely his choice. It still changes his whole life, whether he's aware of it or not, however, and the Hat will know this, taking his lingering doubts that Hagrid placed in his head about Slytherin into account before putting Harry, coached against bias by Hermione, into Slytherin. You know, I didn't write it yet, but Hermione will definitely tell him it's silly to think that Slytherin isn't a good house to match him just because of its reputation, and to further ease Harry's mind, this will be the exact moment that Draco walk in, and he will embellish this point. Harry may have to interfere with him when Hermione's parentage becomes known, but agreeing with her on such a major point should at least ease his disgust towards her, especially if the point doesn't come up until after the conversation on the train, when Hermione isn't present.

Harry subjugating the poorly formed horcrux instead of destroying it? And he will definitely be capable of circumventing the Statute of Secrecy somehow, but his method will depend on many things.

 **YEAR ONE:**

Train Ride

Covered in text

Sorting Ceremony

Harry goes to Slytherin

Whole school shocked, Harry suddenly unsure

Hermione, ever the brave Gryffindor, begins heartfelt applause

Very hesitant applause follows

Harry sits alone

Next to him sits Blaise Zabini, only person at the table composed _and_ inviting

Feast

Harry talks with Blaise, gets the feeling Blaise isn't completely sincere

Harry catches Quirrell looking, but not Snape, scar hurts as in cannon

Malfoy introduces himself and arrogantly offers 'guidance'

Harry responds politely, but neutrally as even Blaise seems wary of Malfoy

Dumbledore gives speech, unchanged from cannon

Harry led to common room by prefect

Prefect is Max Barrett

muggleborn, ally, got short end of stick leading students, subtly disrespected by all

Common Room

Password is _c_ _orvus oculum corvi non eruit_

Snape gives speech on house unity and expected behavior

Harry notices the man seems to avoid looking at him

Harry asks Max how to remember the password

Harry follows Max to dorms

Other boys introduce themselves, Harry notices they all act…odd

Harry goes to sleep

Boys discuss him after Harry goes to sleep under privacy charms (not in text)

The only hint Harry ever gets of this is the feeling of being discussed behind his back

Lessons

Complicated castle; staircases and doors and Peeves and paintings and armor and Filch

Classes themselves

Hermione doesn't have trouble, which encourages Harry

Harry studies with Hermione after a small gush session

They use books he sees Slytherins using

Other Slytherins notice and begin to shun him, Blaise secretly doesn't (teaches)

Harry gets note from Hagrid, which asks for a chat instead of how school's going

Snape and the flowers, Blaise notices the code, can't decipher it, so Hermione does

Harry gets the bezoar and monkshood/wolfsbane right

When he figures out what Snape said, responds positively, with understanding

Snape mocks Harry, as his dual role requires

In flying lesson, Harry catches Neville because he's right next to him when taking off

Gets noticed by Hooch, summoned by Snape, secretly assigned to team as substitute

Hears a rumor that Weasley twins discovered a Cerberus behind third floor corridor door

Halloween:

Yeah, I changed a lot when I actually got to writing. Check the text against everything here.

Harry and Hermione, along with Neville sometimes, study and begin to do quite well in class

Chess

Harry very subtly bullied by other Slytherins, primarily dorm tricks

Also spells in crowds

They only ever use magic

Harry considers going to Snape, or retaliating, but decides neither would work

Blaise quietly teaches Harry a few defensive spells

Hermione has been targeted as well for a while

She hasn't told Harry

The Slytherins were very careful to avoid tipping Harry off

Culmination is Hermione denounced as a mudblood whore and vanishing

Meanwhile, with troll, Slytherin prefects realize the very real danger of going to dungeons

Someone points out that staying anywhere else without teachers is worse

Hufflepuff common room suggested

It's too late to call back any of the teachers, so they proceed with EXTREME caution

Max knows from gossip where Hermione is, can't stop Harry following him

They arrive at the bathroom seconds after the troll, Max knows Hermione's inside

Max carefully distracts the troll and gets Hermione out

This is no longer what happened, but I do believe I dealt with the rumors. Time for…

Quidditch:

During a visit to Hagrid, someone casually mentions the Cerberus (Harry not-so-casually?)

Before/after match?

Hagrid lets slip that Fluffy's guarding something, and that Flamel's involved

Neville _almost_ remembers who Flamel is, but can't quite

When Neville mentions asking Hermione's parents, he almost gets it

Does think of searching history (alone, as they figure Flamel's alive)

Discovers Flamel shortly after Christmas (and Mirror stuff)

Harry checked out _Quidditch Through the Ages_ from the library on Flint's orders

Thought about borrowing Hermione's copy, couldn't think of a good reason

Harry doesn't know Hermione's _was_ a library copy anyway

Doesn't even necessarily know it was the book Hermione used earlier (check)

Snape's limp is present

Harry notices, and even mentions it to H&N, but they don't think much of it

The game

Gryffindor plays a chaser's game, and Harry is forced to help his team

Gryffindor seeker isn't good enough that Harry can't do so, but he's stretched

Harry's broom is also acting up, starting about five minutes into the match

Refuses to brake or turn at bad times

Broom trouble stops after a time out, play continues as normal

Braking charm fails once more on Harry's final dive for snitch

An already distracted Harry crashes pretty hard

He only survives due to some quick (and unnoticed) charm work from Snape

He does maintain a death grip on the snitch, wins game

Hospital wing for two days

Fallout of match

Rumors only get more intense after Harry reveals his quidditch talent

Most of school treats him like 'star Slytherin,' whether that means good or bad

Slytherins make attempts to reconcile with him

Harry not impressed, but on Blaise's advice doesn't completely snub them

H&N tell him (unnecessarily) that he's _very_ unpopular in their common room

Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws don't really change attitudes, perhaps resigned

Attitudes were basically neutral, some slight mistrust

Ron confronts Harry about…secrets, brothers, H&N? All of the above?

He does this earlier than I initially planned…

Twins congratulate Harry (reluctantly) on a good game

They also pull a friendly prank on him

Blaise impressed at Harry's secret keeping

Only hints at it, but is now certain that Harry really fought the troll

Blaise isn't the only one with this opinion

***Harry might eventually use this to bluff, especially post-basilisk

Snape is slightly chillier toward Harry, stricter

Not rude, actually a bit constructive

Stops ignoring Harry's friends quite so much

Harry gives Sprout some message flowers for staff room

Snape leaves a response under Harry's pillow (heavily protectively charmed)

McGonagall noticeably chillier toward Harry

Like a toned-down reverse Snape, though still fair. Just…chilly

Hermione saw Snape and Quirrell muttering during the match

After discussing this with H&N, they suspect Quirrell

Instead, Snape tells Harry suspicions of Voldemort

Harry clams for two weeks before Neville and Hermione get him to open up

Christmas:

Friends

Hermione and Neville will both go home

Neville _might_ convince his Gran that staying with a friend is better

The Weasleys will still be in the castle, so prank war rages on

Cloak…How will Dumbledore handle the cloak? Probably the same as in cannon

He'll make sure Snape knows to prevent any theft though

Harry's presents will be enchanted against theft, as will all presents (avoid favoritism)

Blaise will also have approached Harry, taught him some ward-like enchantments

This was actually due to pranking, but helps now

Blaise also testing Harry's ingenuity a bit (not the best test, but he knows that)

Harry exploring

Probably won't go out after curfew

Instead, he'll sneak around the castle by day, following people who know it

He'll learn that the twins can track him, even when he's invisible

He may even see the map in use, but probably won't understand it

He'll also learn quite a lot about the castle

H&N will notice that he's off exploring a lot

Hermione will frown upon the act, but eagerly accept the knowledge gathered

Neville will ask to accompany him, Harry will gladly accept

Hermione will use the downtime to research ways to defeat invisibility cloaks

She will perfect the supersensory charm, after 5 months of very hard work (May completion)

Dumbledore will use Harry's explorations to guide him to the Mirror

He'll notice Harry tailing people, and either personally guide Harry to the mirror or arrange circumstances to guide Harry's path to the Mirror from the path of someone he's following

He does this so that Harry will know how to subvert Voldemort, should it come to that (prophesied child may be the only one who can even fight him, let alone defeat him.) This is NOT a scheme to get Harry to face Voldemort, just a backup plan.

Neville will find Flamel in the history books long before the mirror stuff

Harry's being far more subtle about his exploration this time

Dumbledore won't have as easy a time manipulating events

Neville will discover Flamel in mid-January, Mirror will be late February

Quidditch danger and Snape

Snape can't referee a Slytherin match, so he'll occupy Quirrell during matches

He'll have Dumbedore's full support

SvR, he'll be getting Quirrell's help gathering troll parts for ingredients

They're doing this during the match

SvH, he'll

Snape will get all of the staff on high alert, get Minerva to referee

He'll also personally place a few protective enchantments on Harry's broom

The second game will last longer than it did in cannon, different snitch, different day

Voldemort will have time to try something

He'll enchant the bludgers to move far faster toward Harry

The first one will clip Harry's foot, put him on guard

After this, Snape will be attempting to disenchant the bludgers

H&N will notice (as in first cannon match) but not interfere

Eventually, Harry will give up on helping the chasers as was planned

He'll catch the snitch at 60S-110R, winning the game

He'll also have his shoulder and several ribs fractured

 **A/N: Eh…le ciel est bleu. Je ne suis pas mort. =)**

To Harry's great surprise, nothing happened in Charms, or Herbology, or even at lunch. The twins were at lunch though, eating and making merry like they always did. Harry wasn't sure what to make of that, but since he'd left something of a calling card, he knew the twins were planning their revenge on him. They had to be. Didn't they? Harry finished found his appetite was rather ruined by this line of though, and picked at his meal without eating very much.

Harry interrupted from thoughts by housemate?

:ungod others :unff all :damage others 983749375983 :music 228797800 :fogend 50 :fogcolo :time 24:00 :god :inv :fly :gear me 130113146

Creepy music box 143382469

Creepier music box 209322206

Freddy 226672555

Ambient 416923620, 155791979, 149119648, 238510574

Creepy kid 358634338

Electro creepy 186658648

Creepy whispers 228797800

Mommy, Daddy (don't repeat, ends in bedroom) 400282579

SoS Occlumency

At some point Harry will learn of Occlumency and Legilimency. [Insert occasion when you think of one, because this should be something fairly pre-planned.] He will almost definitely learn from Professor Snape, and be learning before Voldemort's return, so that Dumbledore won't even need to worry that Voldemort might be able to connect to Harry. The connection will eventually become its own problem, but when Voldemort is a spirit, he won't have the capacity to do much beyond maintaining his existence and possessing the minds of beasts or weak willed humans who linger in his presence. This is due to the guidelines of the art of Occlumency which are as follows: (subject to editing)

The simplest form of the art involves primarily clearing one's mind of idle thoughts so that an intruder can't simply hide among the subconscious noise and 'listen' to idle thoughts without detection. When properly achieved, this state allows an Occlumens to detect an intruder, though breaking contact with them is another matter.

Once mental clarity has been achieved, any intruder will be drawn to the only things remaining, which are the conscious thoughts of their victim. Hiding these takes more skill, but it is still possible to reach the point where even when not focusing internally, an Occlumens' conscious thoughts are nigh undetectable.

There are varying degrees of skill with which one can hide their thoughts and memories, and one is always vulnerable to someone who is better at seeking out their thoughts than they are at hiding them. A person's Occlumency, or Legilimency for that matter, will always be stronger when they have the mental capacity to focus of their attack or defense, and weaker when they don't. This means that getting past someone's defenses doesn't have to be as straightforward as forcing them to divulge their secrets, and defending against a mental attack can be as simple as physically knocking the attacker off their feet.

The personal implications of practicing either or both of the mental arts depend just as much on the person as they do on the arts. As a general rule, however, an Occlumens will become more intuitive and quick-thinking, and learn faster as a result of their focus within their own mind. Some will also become more focused and private as well, but plenty remain scatterbrained and suffer no deficiencies in their technique for it, as their thought process is harder to follow, and so any work an intruder might be saved by a scatterbrain's natural lack of technique will instead be done trying to figure out just what the scatterbrain's thoughts mean.

A Legilimens, on the other hand, almost always goes one of three distinct directions after learning Legilimency. Many will distance their own self-perceptions from the thoughts that they read to a startling degree, becoming judgmental of others to a fault at times and finding it difficult to relate on an empathetic level with others, even if they can understand their thoughts. Some others become even more empathetic than they were, finding commonalities between the thoughts themselves and others. A few, however, will learn Legilimency only to regret their ability to experience the thoughts of others. These witches and wizards focus their attention back within themselves, only rarely, if ever actually practicing Legilimency. This last group is the most disparate, and often has unique and personal reasons.

 **A/N: Thank you so very much for reading my work.**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**


	11. Notice of an Important Announcement

**A/N: Hey guys, just your friendly reminder that this website has gotten its shit together, alerts are working again, and I updated my story after a lengthy lack of updates while you weren't getting alerts. Because of the content of that chapter, I feel like not telling all of you would be hiding behind your ignorance, so I'm not going to do that.**


	12. Something New

**A/N: I'm so deeply sorry, I'm sure many of you thought that this was a continuation of a story I labeled as dead. In a way, it is, but I won't lie and tell you that's what it's meant to be.**

CONTINGENCY ORDER THETA-D

After hastily finishing his first crucial task, Dobby looked around at the mayhem, and sighed. His longtime partner's instructions had been clear, and even with everything that had happened, they persisted. So he did the natural thing, and followed those contingency orders to the letter.

Would he ever see his partner again? Dobby couldn't say. Theta-D was as close to a worst case scenario as a contingency plan could get, after all. But deep down inside, something in Dobby told him that all wasn't lost. And as he looked into the infant's glowing green eyes, he couldn't bring himself to disagree with that unknowable impulse. So as he performed exactly what Theta-D required, Dobby felt something that had been wearing thin in recent years. Hope. And maybe that was all he needed.

OOO

When Hagrid heard the crack, he knew the house was falling apart. He'd been approaching cautiously, but now he abandoned all of that caution. As he rushed in, he couldn't see the beam that he assumed had snapped, but he could see James. That almost stopped him, but he pressed onward. His nose, mediocre though it may have been, was good enough to tell him that there was only one survivor here. So when he saw Lily, he stepped over her too, mourning all the while, unable to stop the thick, salty tears running down his face.

And then he saw the eyes. Those eyes…Hagrid felt something stirring in him. Unknowingly mirroring the emotions Dobby had experienced mere moments earlier, Hagrid felt hope begin to stir within him for the first time in what seemed like forever. Those were Lily's eyes. And if that hair was anything to judge by, the wee lad had gotten the best of both of his parents. So he choked out a few reassurances, picked up the lad, and marveled at how perfectly the child fit into the palm of his hand. Then he turned to leave.

And paused. He couldn't just leave them like this. The lad would understand. So he shifted Harry to his other hand and picked up Lily before hurrying down to the living room, scooping James up as he made his way back outside. Once he was outside, he saw a friendly, familiar face. As Hagrid delicately put down two of his best friends, Sirius Black walked up and laid an understanding hand on his elbow.

"Are…are they…?" Sirius couldn't seem to get the words out.

"Little tyke here made it, but…" Hagrid could get the words out either.

Sirius stiffened, and then let out a choked sound. As he knelt next to the best friend he'd ever had, and the woman who he'd always thought was kinda hot. "James…Lily…what have-" he choked down a sob, unable to finish the thought.

Hagrid couldn't stand it. Sirius was as good a lad as James had ever been, and a good friend. "Look, they're still with us," he said, handing the lad over, "He's got her eyes…an' his hair."

Sirius took the child numbly. The two seemed to stare deeply into each other's eyes for the longest time, before Sirius actually _smiled._ And even laughed, in a strangled way. "Ha! He does at that. He really does." The Sirius grew pensieve. "Hagrid, I'm his godfather. Let me take him. Someone has to take care of him, and I can make sure he grows up right."

Hagrid shook his big head. "'Fraid I can't let yeh do that, Sirius. Dumbledore's orders. He'll be safe, don't you worry."

Sirius looked back up at Hagrid. "Alright. But you take care now. I'll not have my godson growing up to be some stiff-necked fop because he got dropped on his head." The humor fell flat; even Sirius couldn't work up a smile anymore.

Hagrid placed a hand on his massive chest, right over his heart. "You have my solemn word."

At that, Sirius handed the baby back to Hagrid, and took one last, long look at the bodies of his friends on the ground. Then he turned to leave. "You can have my bike. I shouldn't need it much, and it's a smoother ride that that damnable bus." He muttered more, but he was facing away, and Hagrid couldn't make it out. Then he walked away, vanishing with a sharp crack.

Hagrid followed him after one last look at James and Lily (and a watery sniff of his nose). As he threw a leg over the…bike, had Sirius said? Hagrid looked over the controls. It took some experimenting, but he figured out the basics soon enough. Tucking the lad into a pocket, swaddled in cloth, and making sure his head poked out, Hagrid took off into the night, not even giving surprised when the contraption started flying. That's how transportation worked in his mind, after all. That bus thing only drove on the ground because it was always picking people up.

And as he flew, Hagrid once more felt that stirring of hope within himself. With the night air blowing past and the best parts the two greatest people Hagrid had ever known along for the ride, maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe the storm had passed.

OOO

Much later, Hagrid had gone through several storms and weathered them all. And wouldn't you know, the little tyke was sleeping.

 **A/N: This is an announcement, and a teaser. My beta's currently a bit...unresponsive, but this is here anyway, because why not. Future drabbles for this story (the one I mentioned recently, a spiritual successor of sorts to** ** _Harry Potter and the Significance of Subtleties_** **) will be posted alongside this one, in a separate story called WORKING TITLE HERE-drabbles and nonesense. It will be called this until I come up with a relevant working title, because due to a minor and recent continuity rework,** ** _Undercover_** **doesn't work so well anymore, and I'm trashing the idea.**

 **Best of wishes,**

 **feauxen**

 **P.S. I am truly sorry to any fans of SoS, but this will in all likelihood be the** ** _last_** **update to this work. The project is well and truly ground to a halt, and replaced with another. At this point, you really do know as much as I do, because I haven't made and won't make new plans or outlines for the storyline.**

 **I do apologize.**

 **~f**


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